


Until He, Too, Fell Asleep

by Misschatelle



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: M/M, chainshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 58,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misschatelle/pseuds/Misschatelle
Summary: After they escape, things go back to normal. Or at least, that's what is expected of them. Adam can pretend that he doesn't wake up in the middle of the night with panic attacks, and Lawrence can pretend that Alison and he being nice to each other isn't just a show put on for Diana's sake.This is the story of Adam and Lawrence relearning to live.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I spent the past seven years of my life telling myself I would write something when I had the time. I guess it took me this long to realize that time doesn't just happen, you make it.
> 
> I wrote 100 pages of fanfiction in three weeks. Meanwhile, it took 4 years to write 80 pages of my Master's thesis. Hah.
> 
> Anyhow, this entire fanfiction is already written from beginning to end. I didn't want to post it before it was finished, in case I abandoned it. I am trying to post a chapter a day. Hope you enjoy it!

  _Beep.. Beep.._

The sound was distant, almost unnoticeable. What came to his consciousness first was the throbbing pain in his head, which started out as a light pinching feeling, and gradually pierced through his skull in harsh swells. The beeping sound just grew louder.

He ventured to open his eyes, but the effort revealed greater than expected. It felt like a dream slowly slipping away, leaving him in a state of non-awakedness, of limbo, where sounds from reality were starting to reach him, but the pull of sleep remained too strong for him to fully emerge from his slumber. After a moment, as the sound became obnoxiously strident, resonating in his brain, accentuating the pain, he managed to lift an eyelid, just enough to let the light through. Instantly, acute brightness rushed to his retina, and with the limited control he could muster on his face muscles, he frowned, hoping to block the light now seeping through his tightly shut eyelids.

“Adam?” said a voice, distant and yet suspiciously close. The voice felt familiar, he thought that he should recognize it. But everything was still so muddled in his brain. Where was he? What had happened?

“Adam, are you awake?”

The only thing he could let out was a slow, confused groan. He found the energy to slightly move his head, feeling the cricks in his neck. Now that he was paying attention, his entire body felt sore, kind of like those times in high school where P.E. teachers would get them to run a 5K around the buildings because, why not, they’re young, what could go wrong? All of his muscles seemed to be recovering from massive exercise… or significant, long-term tension. But his shoulder was the worst of all his pains. If the pain to his head felt deafening at first, the piercing and tearing sensation in his right shoulder was now overriding everything else.

With the pain came some vague recollections. The sound of a shooting gun. Blood. A lot of it. Screams _. His_ screams.

“Adam? Can you hear me?”

And with that, Adam slowly opened an eyelid, letting his eye get used to the brightness of the room, before opening the other as well. His vision was blurry for a moment, but the silhouette hovering over him had the defining traits that his brain was slowly putting together: long black hair, paler eyebrows and even paler skin, pointy nose, the faint trace of a chin dimple, and those thin lips that would usually bear the same sarcastic smile he himself considered his trademark.

“Amy?” he muttered in a raspy voice he did not expect, taking in the sight of his sister before shutting his eyes again, the brightness having taken its toll on his dry retinas.

“And he lives,” she responded, in an attempt at a cynical tone, but the traces of worry were unmistakable.

“Where am I?”

The question came out in a whisper. For a moment, he felt she may not have heard him, but then she replied, “Adam, you’re in the hospital. You were kidnapped and shot. They say it was the Jigsaw killer, from the news.”

The memories started rolling in. The bathroom. The chains. The game. The shooting.

And Lawrence.

“Lawrence?” he asked, his heart rate slowly increasing as he remembered the fat trail of blood following him out of the bathroom, pooling out of the other man’s mutilated leg. When met with silence from his sister, he raised his voice a little, starting to feel the signs of worry and suffocation roll down on him. “Amy, where is Lawrence?” He was no longer whispering, but he did not have the energy to yell, or speak anywhere near what would be considered loud. He could still hardly hold his eyes open.

Amy looked at him in confusion for a moment, before something seemed to dawn on her. “Lawrence, is that the guy who was locked up with you in that place? He is here too. I don’t know much about his state, I didn’t ask, but he’s here, somewhere.”

Adam nodded softly, relaxing a little at knowing that Lawrence was alive. He had said he would find help, and he had. He had kept his promise.

Countless other questions started forming in his mind – _How did we escape? What happened to Jigsaw? Is Lawrence going to be okay? How long have I been here?_ – but at the same time, his vision started blurring again, the traits of his sister’s face started mingling until he could no longer distinguish them, and he lost consciousness once more.

oOoOo

When he woke up again, he was in the same room, but everything looked a little dimmer. It was still day out, from what he could tell looking at the light seeping through the translucent curtains on the windows, but it seemed to be late afternoon. He looked around the room and locked his gaze on a clock on the wall, by the door.

4:07. He wasn’t sure what day it was. The last date he remembered was September 12. That was the day that he had followed Lawrence Gordon to that motel, where he had taken pictures of him visiting his mistress. It was the day he had fallen asleep in his darkroom, woken up to a power shortage… and the rest was a jumble of snapshots flashing through his mind. He had spent the night in that bathroom, until early morning on what had to be September 13. And then… what?

“Oh hello, there! You’re awake!”

Surprised at the voice, Adam lowered his gaze to the door, where a short woman in a nurse uniform was standing, looking at him with a smile.

“You’ve been out for a while,” she continued, as she stepped into the room and made her way to the bed.  “How are you feeling, Mr. Stanheight?”

He blinked at her, slowly making sense of the words coming out of her mind, as if his brain was still working on a reduced operationality. “What day is it?” he found himself asking, ignoring the original question.

“Today is September 14, Mr. Stanheight. You’ve been sleeping for a little over a day,” she answered with that same smile, which felt increasingly inappropriate under the circumstances. He had, after all, survived psychological torture by a serial killer for an entire night. _Please don’t smile at me that way._

And by ‘a little over a day,’ she clearly meant ‘way over.’ The game had ended between 6 and 6:30 am yesterday. It was now 4PM today. “When did I get here?”

“You came in sometime between 7:30 and 8am yesterday. You were unconscious and had lost quite a bit of blood from that gunshot wound to your shoulder. You spent a good chunk of the day in surgery for it. Tricky part of the body, the shoulder. Lots of nerves and bones in there. You’ve been sleeping since.”

Adam took a look at the bandages he could see peeking from under his hospital gown, wrapped around his shoulder, along with the sling keeping his arm in place. The pain was not too strong, but he suspected pain killers being involved, maybe even morphine, if his limited knowledge of hospitals and medicine was any good.

The nurse opened her mouth, probably to reiterate her question about his wellbeing, but he interrupted her with another question, “How is Lawrence? Is he okay?”

The nurse seemed surprised at the question, but then her eyebrows were lowered in a pensive look. She seemed to ponder her answer for a moment. “Dr. Gordon is another patient in this hospital. We cannot, however, divulge any information about his state except to family members.”

He scoffed, which only irritated his throat further. “ _Please_ ,” he retorted, frustrated, but with a hint of desperation, “I spent eight hours chained to a pipe in a dirty bathroom with the man. We survived a fucking serial killer together, doesn’t that mean something?”

The nurse looked at himwith what must have been either defiance or mere indifference. The smile had slowly faded. “Look, Mr. Stanheight, the rules are the rules, and…”

“ _Please_ ,” he repeated, but this time with more desperation than irritation. “I just want to know if he is ok.”

The nurse stared, and then sighed, pondering her options, before the hardened façade slowly melted off her face. She spared a glance to the door before lowering her voice. “Look, there isn’t much I can tell you, but Dr. Gordon has been through multiple surgeries since yesterday. He has lost a significant amount of blood and we won’t know more than we do right now until he wakes up, but he is currently stable.” She paused for a very brief moment, before closing with a firm, “This is all I can tell you.”

She gave him a look to make him understand that this was the end of the conversation. He thanked her with a light nod, which she acknowledged with a nod of her own, before resuming her questions about his state. This time, he let her.

oOoOo

Adam hadn’t spoken to his sister in a long time. Maybe three years. To be completely truthful, he hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with her in probably five. So waking up to her familiar face wasn’t what he would have expected. But then again, being victim to a famous serial killer seemed to have that effect on people: old grudges were set aside and people came together, at least to make sure their family feud would not end in such ambiguity. Nobody liked cliffhangers.

Although, he didn’t think he could call what his sister and he had a family feud. They’d never had big fights, nor ever really hated each other. Maybe a little quarrel here or there, but never something to break a family bond. The best way to describe their situation was that they’d… drifted apart. They hadn’t had much to keep them together. Their mother had died of a car accident when Adam was just six years old and Amy, ten. Their dad had raised them alone, but he had developed a taste for after-work drinks, so by the time they were ten and fourteen, they had to be pretty independent. College had never been an option. Amy had found some job a soon as soon as she’d graduated from high school, nothing very exciting, but she had stuck to it for years and she had ended up alright, with enough stability to make a decent living. Adam had never been that disciplined. He was the artist among the two of them, and his naïve ambitions of becoming a famous photographer had eventually just led him to the unstable world of stalking people for money.

They’d been somewhat in touch for a while. Then Amy had become quite serious with a boyfriend whom Adam absolutely hated, and they had moved in together quite fast – it was the most financially sensible choice then – which made visiting her less appealing. They had come together when their father had died of lung cancer three years ago. And then, the phone calls had spaced out, until they had just stopped, and neither of them had really made an effort to keep the relationship from slipping between their fingers. It was quite iconic of him and his sister, he felt: no triggering event, just inertia. Apathy. They let it happen.

But there she was, by his bedside, making conversation with him about anything but the dirty bathroom in which he thought he would die 48 hours ago. She was talking about some stupid client she’d had to deal with at work a few days ago – the stupidity of the human race always had a way of entertaining Adam – when two policemen came in, asking to talk to him. Amy quietly left the room after asking him if he wanted anything at the cafeteria – he didn’t – and the two men took a seat where she had been.

They introduced themselves. Detective Marenger, who seemed to be the talker among the two of them, was a tall man with black hair, seemingly of Asian descent, while the other, Detective Boyle, was an African-American man, slightly shorter than his partner, with old-fashioned glasses neatly placed on his nose.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Stanheight?” asked Detective Marenger, a small smile adorning his lips. Adam wasn’t sure if it was meant as a polite smile, or a sympathetic one. Either way, their presence was intimidating. All he could think about while they sat a few feet away from him was the metaphorical blood on his hands. The toilet lid covered in blood. Zep’s deformed face.

“I’m ok.” He replied in little more than a whisper. He was finding it difficult, maintaining eye contact with them, but he tried to do it anyway.

“Glad to hear that, Mr. Stanheight. You’ve been through quite a lot. You’re lucky to be here.”

“Yeah..” he said, momentarily dropping his eyes to the floor, before raising them again.

“We’re sorry to inconvenience you so soon after the incident, we just wanted to make sure we got your statement as early possible, and get this investigation moving.”

Adam nodded absent-mindedly for a moment, before the questions burning his lips could no longer hold.

“Can I ask… how did I get here? How did the police find us? Did Lawrence get help?”

Detective Marenger gave an understanding smile, showing he was willing to accommodate his questions before diving into their own set of queries.

“Dr. Gordon certainly did a remarkable job of trying, what with the blood loss and shock. It seems that, on his way out, he found a steaming pipe which he used to cauterize his wound. Smart move, that is the reason he was still alive when we found him. He was unconscious, a few feet away from said pipe, once we got to the premises.” He paused for a quick moment, which only confused Adam more. So then, how? Before he could ask, the detective resumed. “Dr. Gordon’s wife called the police after Mr. Hindle left their house. Some surveillance equipment was left behind, seeing  as Mr. Hindle left in a hurry. It wasn’t instant, but with a little bit of hacking, our tech team was able to locate where you were being held. We found Dr. Gordon first, and then found you alongside Mr. Hindle’s body while searching the place.”

The color drained from Adam’s face at the mention of Zep’s body. Did they know?

“And Jigsaw?” he managed to mutter, his throat constricting at the thought of him still being out there.

“Well, we were hoping you could help us with that, Mr. Stanheight. The Gordon family has given us a description which has helped us identify Mr. Hindle as their attacker. But a few things don’t add up. The tape that we found on the floor between you and his body seems to reveal he was merely another pawn in Jigsaw’s scheme.”

So Jigsaw _was_ still out there. He must have made it out before the police had arrived. Did he knew they’d be found? Was he angry that they’d escaped?

“Do… do you think Jigsaw will be looking for us? Since we escaped?” That was the last question he dared asking before the inevitable moment where he’d have to explain he killed a man for survival.

There was a pause, before Detective Marenger answered. “Well, we have reason to believe that, once his victims survive, Jigsaw does give them a chance at life. We have other survivors to attest to that.”

“But that’s the point… we weren’t meant to survive. Fuck, he even said ‘Game Over’ before he locked me up and left. I don’t think he intended for us to escape at all.” His voice shook a little at the end of his last sentence. Out the window flew his usual cynical self. Serial killers seemed to have that effect on him.

“Look, Mr. Stanheight. We’re doing everything we can to catch him. You and Dr. Gordon may be the best lead we’ve had in a while. The hospital is under surveillance, you’re safe here.”

Adam looked at them with empty eyes, nodding lightly. That was the best assurance he’d get for now.

Seeing him calmed down, Detective Marenger raised his chin, as if to reset the conversation and re-establish his authority. “Now, how about you tell us what happened. From the start.”

oOoOo

The cigarette shook between his fingers, he almost dropped it twice.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Amy asked, throwing him a disapproving look.

It was a little cold outside, the breeze gave him shivers when it blew under his thin hospital garment. But it was also quite refreshing. It was as if he hadn’t had a real breath of fresh air since the incident. And in a way, he hadn’t. He had been mostly unconscious on the way from the bathroom to here, and hadn’t been outside since.

But now, he desperately needed a cigarette, especially after his conversation with the police.

“Good ideas are overrated.” He replied simply, successfully lighting the cancer stick on his fourth try.

Amy shook her head, but said nothing more. She had gotten him the pack upon his request, after all. Hard to say no to a sick brother. Although, he wasn’t exactly sick, he supposed. But the hospital gown seemed to sell it well enough. The metal post holding the bags of fluids being injected into his arm, which he had to clumsily wheel around wherever he went, that also did a pretty good job of making him look like he deserved pity cigarettes.

“Will you be ok?” she asked him with a worried frown on her usually smooth forehead. She was the kind of person to raise her eyebrow in judgement, not frown in worry. But life was all about those contradictions, these days. She was probably asking due to his fidgeting, which he hadn’t been able to control ever since the police had left, about an hour ago. When he answered with a lazy shrug, she leaned on the cement post near the entrance of the hospital, closer to him. “Is this about the guy they found dead with you?”

He scoffed. “You mean the guy I killed? Yeah, something like that.”

A moment of silence ensued, and he imagined the shock and fear on her face. But when he turned to look at her, he only saw the same calm expression of concern she’d had since he had almost set his fingers on fire instead of the cigarette. “Wasn’t he going to kill you? That’s called self-defense, Adam.”

“He wasn’t going to kill me. He was pointing a gun at Lawrence.”

“So you saved someone else. Congrats, that makes you the hero.”

Adam shook his head and looked away, inhaling once more from the cigarette that still magically held between his trembling fingers. “I don’t think the police will see it that way. He wasn’t the real killer, he was just a pawn. Like me.”

“You couldn’t know that. Plus, I doubt Jigsaw intended for all three of you to survive. It was you or him. I am pretty sure that other chick we heard of in the news, the one who had that freaky bear trap thing on her head and survived… I am sure she had fucked up shit to do to make it out. Yet you don’t see her in jail, do you?”

She was probably right. The two detectives had ruffled his feathers a little about killing an (almost) innocent man, but they hadn’t put him under arrest. This was probably part of their interrogation techniques, to make sure they got all the information they could get. But he had enough guilt to go around on his own, so a little pushing and there he was, inhaling cancer straight into his lungs like it was the only cure to whatever he was feeling.

“I need to see Lawrence.” He said, knowing plain well that Amy couldn’t do anything about it.

“Adam, I don’t think they’ll let anyone but family visit for now.”

He sighed. He already knew that, yet couldn’t help but hope the answer would be different every time he asked. The nurses, along with the doctor who had been coming in to examine him regularly since he’d been conscious, were getting a little irritated.

He dropped the cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it before turning to face his sister. “I’m tired, let’s go back inside.”

She nodded and led him back to his bed.

oOoOo

A bag of items taken from his apartment for the investigation had been returned. His phone, his camera, among other things. Copies of the contents had most likely been made before they were returned, and the photos collected from his darkroom were going to be kept as evidence. Not that he wanted them anyway. He didn’t need them. Couldn’t handle them.

He took the cellphone out of the clear bag and looked at his messages. One voicemail from Dylan, the closest thing he had to a friend. They went out for beers once in a while. They never really talked much. Dylan spoke about girls’ asses, Adam laughed and drank. He was a pretty decent wingman, too. Adam had gotten laid multiple times with his help. It was a distraction from the boring repetitive days of his life, which he had never been grateful for.

_Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore._

Dylan’s message was short. He’d seen his name on the news, wanted to know if he was still alive. He’d text him later, but right now he wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone.

It had been four days since he’d gotten out of that bathroom. Amy had had to go back to work, after three days mostly spent by his bedside. She had promised to drop by after her shift. He didn’t hate the time alone – he was used to it – but he also didn’t appreciate it as much as before. He was very bored. He had been seeing the same news cycle all day on TV, and there wasn’t really anyone he wanted to call or talk to. Well, besides Lawrence, but his supplications to be allowed to see him had only earned him the great honor to be dealt with by the strictest, least smiley nurses he’d ever met. None of the nice ones wanted to come see him anymore.

Amy said she’d bring him books, and he had laughed, thinking it a joke. But he was starting to think that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

The days were long and boring, but he still preferred them to the nights. He hadn’t been sleeping well, waking up every other hour by a constricting feeling around his throat, and he would wake up with the image of a bloody handprint – he couldn’t remember whose – on the dirty tiles of that bathroom, stuck in the back of his retina.

He had even had one of those things, the doctor had called it a panic attack. He had always thought those things were fake. Weak people freaking out over nothing and calling it something that sounded legit. He’d almost laughed when he was told the paralyzing feeling he’d felt was, in fact, one of those. He was so sure he was having a heart attack. At 27 years old, it was unlikely, but nothing made sense anymore. It had just seemed like one more irregularity before it all ended. Nothing about it had felt fake.

He was fiddling with the TV remote, irritated at hearing the same piece of news for the fourth time today – he and Lawrence had run out of being interesting enough after two days, Jigsaw would be worthy of attention again when new victims were found, or when he was caught by the authorities, it seemed – when he started feeling someone looking at him. He turned his head to the door, expecting a nurse, but instead locked eyes with a blonde woman, tall and thin, dark circles under her eyes. She was standing hesitantly by the door, one hand half rested on the frame, while the other dangled aimlessly on her side.

He looked back at her for a while, before he tilted his head slightly to show his confusion. “Hello?” he tried, and with that, the woman seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in for a moment

“Um, hello,” she replied, slightly shaking her head, as if to chase whatever thoughts she’d had on her mind. “I am sorry, I don’t want to bother you, I…” she waved her hands out in the air, as if to indicate something he couldn’t quite understand. She frowned when she realized she wasn’t making sense.

“Do I know you?” he asked, starting to fear she might be a wife he had caught cheating in the past. He had had his share of those before. She did seem somewhat familiar. She was a little taller than him, but maybe he could take her… if he wasn’t tied to plastic tubes and bearing an actual hole in his shoulder. With his shoulder immobilized by the bandages and sling, and his overall lack of energy due to the morphine, she’d make a mess of his face before he could call a nurse.

But she didn’t look angry. She looked a little lost and confused herself. “I am sorry,” she repeated. “No, you don’t know me. I… My name is Alison. Alison Gordon.”

It took him a moment to make sense of that. Gordon… Alison. Lawrence’s wife. The blonde woman from the picture he’d found in the other man’s wallet. He’d also gotten a few distant shots of her while he was stalking Lawrence. That’s why she looked familiar.

“Oh… hi. Wow. Um, come in?” he felt silly for saying that, it wasn’t like he owned the room. But she stepped in anyway, although she stopped at a safe distance from the bed.

“How… how’s Lawrence?” he asked. He wondered if that was rude of him to ask. She’d also been through a lot just a few days ago. But that was the only question he could get himself to ask and break the awkward silence with.

“He’s… he’s alright,” she said, which relieved him just a little. “He’s been in and out since yesterday, he’s coming to his senses. It seems that the surgeries were a success, and the doctors haven’t been able to see any severe damage to his brain so far.”

“That’s… that’s great,” he said, a small smile forming on his lips. Lawrence was alright. He was alright. They were alright.

“Yes… he’s quite lucky.” Adam didn’t know much about this woman, except that her marriage with Lawrence had been rocky for a few years. But he could see on her face, as she lowered her eyes for a moment, that she’d been worried too. Funny how marriage can make you hate the person you live with, but that doesn’t mean you want to see them die a painful death. Things like this, it made you question if all those quarrels of the past were really worth it.

“And how are you? … and Diana?” he finally asked, remembering the look of terror on their faces in the picture from Lawrence’s wallet.

She looked at him with a slight hint of surprise, before it turned into a small, weak smile. “As good as we can be, I guess. Diana has been having nightmares, but she’s staying with relatives for now, while I am here with Larry. She’ll be alright, she’s strong.”

Adam nodded. “Good. I am glad.”

Another moment of silence slipped itself between the two of them, and they awkwardly looked away from each other, before Alison eventually spoke up again.

“Look, I am sorry for just showing up. I know you’re recovering too. It’s just… I guess I haven’t been able to really understand all that’s happened. Lawrence hasn’t been able to really talk yet. But he’s been mentioning your name a lot. I think he’s worried that you didn’t make it and… I wanted to be able to tell him something when he’s more lucid, but… I guess I also wanted to see…”

…who had spent with him the eight hours that would forever change their lives. Yeah, that made sense. He nodded, showing her that he understood. More silence followed. He was the one to break it this time.

“Well, I am ok. Thanks to your husband. He was really determined to get us out, I don’t know if I’d be here if he hadn’t done… well, what he did.”

Alison nodded. Neither of them wanted to mention the missing foot. The severe blood loss. The crawling along a dark, dirty hallway.

Her eyes dropped to his shoulder. The bandage could be seen, again peeking out from under his gown.

“Did Lawrence…” she started asking, but found herself unable to finish. But the direction of her stare told him enough.

“Lawrence did what he had to do to get out. You can’t escape Jigsaw’s traps without a little pain and sacrifice. It’s nothing, really, in comparison…”

Alison nodded lightly, looking at her hands.

“Mrs. Gordon… I am sorry for what happened to you and your daughter. It wasn’t fair that you were involved in all this.”

She looked up at him and smiled weakly. “None of this was fair, for anyone.”

She stood there for a minute or two, as he tried to muster his best sympathetic look, before she sighed and made a step backward. “I should probably go back to Larry’s side. Again, I am sorry for bothering you.”

“No, no… not at all.”

She made a few more steps towards the door before he called her once more. “Mrs. Gordon?” She turned around. “I hate to ask you this, but… I have been asking to see Lawrence for a while, the hospital staff won’t let anyone but family visit. Do you think… I mean… I don’t know if there’s a way…”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied with another feeble, but genuine smile, before stepping out.

And he was alone again, with the endlessly repeating news cycle.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was a little dimmer than his own. The curtains were drawn, only letting part of the afternoon light in. Some defiant sunrays were pushing their way through, piercing the ambient air, singling out floating speckles of dust which would otherwise have remained invisible, forever ignored. Some rays made it all the way to the bed positioned a few feet away from the window, brushing against the right hand of the figure laying on it.

Adam slowly made his way inside, the high-pitched wheel sounds of his metal fluid thingie post – _whatever were those things called?_ – filling in the otherwise eerily silent air. He rolled it all the way to the bed, and stopped when he was close enough to lay a hand on the safety rail.

Lawrence.

The last time he had seen him, his face had been pale. Too pale. The blood had then been scarce in his body, making it difficult for him to fully articulate his words. Adam felt relief upon seeing that the color had returned to his face. He looked cleaned up, no longer covered in blood and sweat. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even. He was asleep, although Adam wasn’t too sure if he was peacefully resting or just plain unconscious.

They hadn’t told him much. Alison must have spoken to the hospital staff, because the morning after her visit, he was informed he could visit Dr. Gordon later that day. He hadn’t even had to nag. He had been very nice to all the nurses for the rest of the day, just in case one of them decided to screw him over in revenge.

And there he was. Just a floor down from his. The room was empty except for the two of them, Alison must have left just a little earlier, gone to grab some food, or maybe just pick up their daughter from the relatives’ home she was staying at.

Not knowing what else to do, he lowered his hand that been resting on the bedrail, and grabbed Lawrence’s hand, squeezing it just enough to convince himself that he was really there. That they were both here, alive and well. Somehow.

He wondered if he should talk to him. They say they can hear you, right? Then he remembered that was about people in comas, and Lawrence wasn’t in one of those. Not to his knowledge. He felt a little silly, just standing there and holding this man’s hand, but there was truly nowhere else he wanted to be at that moment. He had needed to know, needed to see for himself.

Just as he was re-considering the one-sided conversation idea, he saw the muscles of Lawrence’s face stir, followed by a low, pained groan. He twisted his shoulders a little and frowned, before slowly opening his eyes. Adam just looked at him – with what, he realized later, must have been a very dumb expression – and watched those eyes blink a few times to focus, before they zeroed on him. They were only half-opened, but Adam could see the realization slowly dawn on them.

“Adam?”

Adam wasn’t sure if the tone was one of relief, confusion… irritation? He knew he’d really needed to see Lawrence, talk to him, after everything. But then again, he didn’t have much of a social circle to return to, whereas Lawrence had a family… the real reason he had severed his foot and shot Adam for. To return to them. Lawrence may not want to see him again. Adam may simply be a reminder of the worst night of his life.

But in an instant, his concerns were washed off by the weak smile that formed on Lawrence’s lips, and the faint squeeze he felt on his hand.

“You’re alright,” said Lawrence, as if in disbelief. But the smile on his lips was content.

“Yeah, I am alright.” Adam smiled back. “We both are.”

Lawrence nodded faintly, but the smile slowly faded off his face. His voice was still a little raspy as he muttered, “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I thought I had killed you.”

Adam scoffed. “Man, you’re underestimating me. People like me, we’re like cockroaches. It’s gonna take a lot more than a little bullet in the shoulder to get rid of me.”

The faint smile reappeared on Lawrence’s face. Adam felt another light squeeze on his hand. “Yeah,” came the soft, tired voice. “I guess you’re right.”

oOoOo

Adam was discharged on day nine. Under normal circumstances, based on the severity of his injuries, he probably could have been discharged earlier. But Dr. Palmer had insisted that, after the trauma he had faced, they should make sure no latent symptoms would show up. Adam suspected it was also partly for their overall protection, but after a week, it was hard to justify keeping him any longer.

Amy had insisted he go stay with her and Tommy – the low-life boyfriend she apparently was still with – for a while. She said he shouldn’t go back to that creepy apartment, not right away at least. He complained a little, made fun of her use of the adjective “creepy” – she really meant “shithole,” let’s all be honest here – but ultimately, he really didn’t want to go back there. Not now. All he could remember, when he thought of his place, was the dark hallway, the chilling puppet’s laugh, and the creaking in the closet. The nightmares were already enough to deal with, without that kind of stress added on top.

He had dropped by Lawrence’s room one more time since the first visit, when the nurses weren’t looking. (He wasn’t sure if the permission to visit had been a one-time thing, so he didn’t risk giving them an opportunity to tackle him back into bed.) The blonde man had already been looking better. Definitely more awake, although still a little weak. They had talked, for almost an hour, about a little of everything and anything. There was a little something ironic in getting to know each other, now, after everything else. But even though they didn’t really talk about what their entourage had started calling “the incident,” it helped to talk about the small things, mock the clumsiness of relatives trying to help, and remind one another that they had made it. They were ok. Or at least, they would be.

Then, Alison had showed up with Diana. Adam had taken it as his cue to politely leave the room, but Lawrence had insisted on introducing him to his daughter before he left. He hadn’t quite known how to react, he had never really been any good with children. He had waved a little awkwardly as Lawrence had come up with some kind of child-appropriate version of how he knew Adam. He didn’t lie, but he left out certain parts. Diana had looked at Adam with wide eyes, and had waved back shyly. He had nodded at Alison, who had returned the favor, and had then quietly left the room, the emotion in Lawrence’s voice ringing in his ear, as he spoke to and held his daughter.

Lawrence may have done many questionable things in his marriage, but he clearly loved his daughter. The sparkle in his eye when she had arrived was blinding. She had climbed on his bed and hugged him, and Adam hadn’t missed the tear forming at the corner of the other man’s eye. What a shame, that his persona had been reduced to a series of photographs taken unbeknownst to him, showing a much less caring, much less genuine picture of who he was. That he had been judged on his worst mistakes, regardless of his redeeming qualities. Adam couldn’t help but feel some guilt about that, feel like he had something to do with it.

That last visit to Lawrence’s room had been  two days ago.

As he changed into his normal clothes – Amy had brought him some – and filled the discharge paperwork, he started thinking about the future. The thought had been on his mind in the past few days, but he hadn’t really delved into it, procrastinating the moment when he would have to think about his next steps. Eventually, he’d have to go back to his apartment, and find some work. He thought about looking for a new place, but he didn’t have much savings, and with the medical bills he’d have to start paying off soon… that place was already the best deal he could find when he had signed the lease a few years ago. He wouldn’t find anything better without paying more, and he couldn’t afford that.

Plus, he didn’t think he could go back to the type of gigs he did before all this, he hadn’t even dared touching his camera since it had been returned to him. He’d have to find something else, which only meant more uncertainty.

He shook his head and chased the thoughts away. He didn’t have to figure this out today. He could go rest at his sister’s, focus on not hating her boyfriend, and then figure everything else out with a clearer mind.

He had told Amy to meet him in the parking lot, he wanted to drop by Lawrence’s room one last time, say goodbye or something. He didn’t know if he was with his wife and daughter, if he was too busy, but he’d do it quick anyway. Just a wave and goodbye, and go.

As he got close to the door, he could hear the sound of the television playing with the volume low, and Lawrence’s voice speaking softly to someone. When he peaked inside, he saw him sitting somewhat upwards in his bed, with Diana lying down next to him. His arm was around her shoulders, and he was pointing at something on the television screen, whispering something that made her smile.

Adam froze in the door frame for a while, wondering if he should back down, until Lawrence noticed him and it was too late.

“Adam!” he said with a smile, waving for him to come in.

“Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt or anything…”

“No, no! Don’t worry about it, we were just watching TV. Right, Diana?”

The little girl locked her eyes on Adam and, with a shy smile, nodded to confirm that her dad’s words were, in fact, correct. Adam laughed a little, awkwardly, not sure what to say next. He was suddenly hyper aware of his choice of words, now that 100% of his favorite vocabulary was off limits, in the presence of an innocent mind.

Lawrence eventually saved him from having to figure out a kid-friendly sentence, glancing at his clothes. “You’re dressed in your clothes. You’re leaving today?”

“Uh... yeah, I got discharged. I, um, I am leaving now. Just came to say bye.”

“Oh, that’s great. I am glad for you.” Lawrence’s voice seemed hesitant. He didn’t seem convinced that going home was a good thing, and neither was Adam, to be honest. As shitty as the hospital life can be, at least, there’s always people around, and there’s never complete, utter silence. Going home was scary. “Are you going back to your apartment?” Lawrence asked, visibly a little worried.

“Uh... no. Not right away, at least. My sister is taking me in for a little while. Get my grip on things and… whatever.”

At that, the doctor seemed a little relieved. “Good. That’s good news.”

“Yeah, well, her boyfriend sucks and… oh, uh…” he stammered as he realized he used a word he probably should not have, but Diana’s eyes remained glued on the screen. Lawrence gave him a look that told him he was alright… this time at least. The glimpse in the older man’s eye implied he thought this was funny anyway. “So, I guess that’ll keep things exciting.”

Lawrence chuckled lightly, as he pushed a strand of hair away from his daughter’s forehead. The little girl squirmed under the touch a little, a move that reminded Adam of his own prepubescent self, a thought which made him smile a little. “Well, I hope you get a good rest, Adam.”

“Thanks. You too.” He wanted to stay longer, but he didn’t want to impose himself any longer in this father-daughter quality time. He waved a little awkwardly with his good hand before shoving it in his pocket and starting to back away.

“Adam?”

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of his name and turned back to glance quizzically at Lawrence. The latter was staring back at him with an uncertain expression. He was chewing the inside of his lip, and seemed to be pondering something.

“Yes?” Adam prompted.

Lawrence sighed uncomfortably. “Look, I don’t want to impose or anything, and I want you to really rest at your sister’s.” He paused for a second, clearly unfinished. “But, you know, if you’re bored, or want to chat with someone, I’d really love it if you came to visit me again. The doctors say I’ll be sticking around for a few more days, maybe a week, no one is really sure of the specifics yet. So, I’ll be here.”

Adam looked surprised for a moment, before he came back to his senses. “Oh… yeah, yes, sure! I’d like that to.”

Lawrence seemed a little relieved as he nodded in response. He looked around a little bit, before asking, “Do you have a pen and paper? Or, better yet, your phone?”

“Uh…” Adam was a little confused. “Yeah, I got my cell.”

“Perfect,” he replied, extending his hand. “Let me give you my number.”

Adam nodded a little dumbly before reaching for his phone in his pocket and giving it to the doctor, who entered his own information in his contacts list.

“Here,” he said, returning it to Adam. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thanks… I will.” And with that, Adam gave a small goodbye nod and awkward smile, and left.

“Bye!” said Diana, who was most likely prompted by her dad to do so.

Adam turned around once more to wave at her, before stepping out of the room and making his way to the parking lot, where Amy was probably waiting for him already.

oOoOo

“So, you’ll be ok for tonight?” Amy asked once more. She’d brought him a glass of water, aspirin, an extra pillow, and had offered him everything in the catalog of things that a recovering sick person may potentially need or want at any point. Once more, he shook his head in response.

“Yes, Amy, I’ll be fine. I have a bed, that’s all I need.” As endearing as that side of his sister was, he couldn’t wait for her to stop seeing him as too fragile to treat himwith her usual sarcasm and cynicism. That caring side was weird. Just… weird.

“Ok, well, let me know if you need anything else.”

Adam sighed. “I will.”

She eyed him a little longer, from where she stood in the doorframe. She looked like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. “Good night,” she said, turning off the lights, and partially closing the door.

He felt like a child again, all tucked in, with the dim light from the living room seeping in through the propped open door. He could hear the whispers of his sister talking to Tommy in the living room. And as he tried to empty his mind to fall into the soft embrace of sleep, all of his earlier thoughts about next steps rushed back in.

Earlier, Amy had, in what she manifestly thought was a subtle manner, mentioned that he might want to seek some professional help, to work through everything he’d been through. A shrink, basically. She meant well – the hospital staff had also offered it, in fact – but he just did not have that kind of money. And neither did Amy, for that matter. Her quality of life was significantly better than his: her apartment did not show any signs of rot, and they even had a guest bedroom. But they did not have health insurance. They lived just above the poverty line, and that was, well, it. He could see on his sister’s face that she felt she had to help, maybe offer him some money, but he had diverted the conversation every time it seemed to be headed that way, and had assured her multiple times that he was fine. She hadn’t insisted too much. She knew, deep down, that there wasn’t much she could do to help, beyond what she was already doing.

He didn’t need a shrink to get back on track. He just needed to get some rest, then find a job, and slowly start paying his debts. It would take a while, but maybe if he disciplined himself like his sister had, he could find a stable job, get promoted or whatever, and pay off his bills gradually. And then, who knows, maybe he could even look for a better place to live in, once all that was behind him.

Discipline, that’s all he really needed.

And that’s what he repeated to himself as he tried to block out the creaking sounds he thought he heard coming from the closet, and as he fought against the constricting feeling around his throat, the dryness in his mouth and the sweat suddenly breaking out on his forehead.

oOoOo

He visited Lawrence in the hospital three days later. He didn’t think he’d go back so soon, but his sister had ended up forcing him to go, after he had spent the days since his discharge lying on the couch, watching TV, and not really moving at all. At least he was eating, but that’s mainly because his sister was cooking for him and bullying him into eating everything she served him. He slept too, but the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to the quality of said sleep. If he wasn’t going to speak to a therapist, he was at least going to talk to someone who understood.

He had texted Lawrence under his sister’s supervision – he was hardly exaggerating – to ask when would be a good time. Lawrence had answered within the next ten minutes, telling him he’d be alone around 3PM, after his physical therapy, and after Alison had left to pick Diana up at school.

And so there he was, in that same doorframe, at 3:15 PM, because god forbid if he showed up on time anywhere. Lawrence smiled at him when he saw him, waving for him to come and take a seat near the bed.

“Hey man. You’re looking better,” Adam said, trying to look more awake and in a better mood than he truly was, as he sat down on the worn armchair by the window. And Lawrence did, in fact, look better. He seemed to have more energy, and even looked a little better rested. Although, Adam did recognize the faintest sign of dark circles. It couldn’t all get back to normal at once, after all.

“Yeah, the recovery has been alright. I think they might let me go home in a day or two.”

“Really? Wow.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much more they can do until the wound has completely healed,” Lawrence said, vaguely gesturing towards his leg. “Might as well get that rest at home. I’ll have to come back for physical therapy and other appointments of the sort. But otherwise, I’ll be ok at home.”

“That’s great!” Adam said, nodding with a smile. He ventured a gaze in the direction of Lawrence’s foot. Or lack thereof. Both of his legs were under the covers, but only one set of toes pushed upwards under them. The other leg ended in flatness, nothingness, as if it magically disintegrated beyond the calf.

When he raised his eyes back to Lawrence’s face, he was embarrassed to see that the other man had noticed his staring. Not knowing what to say, he asked, “Are they going to give you some kind of fake foot, or something?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered if that was something appropriate to ask at all.

But Lawrence did not seem bothered. “They will. But it’s still too early, the wound still has to heal for another three or four weeks at least. Then I’ll get fitted for a prosthetic foot. I’ll be walking around with crutches until then.”

Adam nodded slowly, his eyes inadvertently redirecting towards the absent limb. There was a moment of silence, while Lawrence let Adam stare a little more, before the latter snapped out of it, and embarrassingly changed the subject. “You must be happy to be going back to your family, though!”

Lawrence smiled, although not as genuinely as Adam would have expected. The doctor lowered his eyes for a second or two, before locking eyes with Adam again. “Yes. I am. I miss my daughter.” And that, he meant it, Adam could tell. He didn’t push the subject any further, he could see that going home caused the other man some other mixed feelings. He understood that.

“And how about you?” Lawrence asked in return. “How is the shoulder?”

“Oh, well…” Adam looked down at his own shoulder. He no longer needed the sling, but the bandages were still hiding under his clothes, and the pain was still very much there. “It’s alright, getting better.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s fine.”

“Adam…”

“Look doc, you don’t have to go all professional on me,” he said with a mocking tone, mostly hoping to wash that concern off Lawrence’s face. That guy didn’t need more things to worry about than he already had. “I am being followed by another doctor, don’t worry about it.”

Lawrence adorned an obstinate look for a little while, making Adam uncomfortable, before sighing and letting it go.

“How is staying at your sister’s, then?”

“Fine.”

His answer was met with silence, and this time, he just knew Lawrence wouldn’t let it go.

“Adam, I may have lost a foot, but my eyes are still in perfect condition. Those dark circles tell me a different story.”

Adam stared at his hands, slumping into his seat a little further. He looked like a sulking child and he knew it. But he didn’t know how else to act in this situation.

“You know… you can talk to me,” Lawrence insisted. “I know what it’s like. Probably better than anyone else. You shouldn’t have to bear this weight alone.”

Adam pondered the offer, but couldn’t bring himself to meet the doctor’s eyes. Faced with his prolonged silence, Lawrence resumed.

“Are you having nightmares?”

Adam shrugged. That seemed to mean yes, kind of. Lawrence continued. “Are you having panic attacks?” Another shrug. “Does your sister know what to do when you’re having one?” Adam bit his lip, and did not offer anything else. Lawrence sighed. “Does she know that you’re having them?” The prolonged silence was his answer.

Lawrence let the silence linger for a little longer, before resuming his gentle prodding. “You know, you’re not alone. I am a little afraid of going home too, to be honest.” That earned him a look of subtle bewilderment from Adam, who raised his eyes from his wriggling fingers. “I think it’s not too bad right now because of the noisy environment I am in, but going back to the place where my wife and daughter were held at gun point… that’s a chilling prospect. And the nightmares, they’re somewhat under control, but that’s mainly because of everything they’re giving me in here, that’s been making me sleep. When the medication wears off, I start getting flashes. I see the bathroom again, fragments of it. And then I remember that Jigsaw is still out there, and it makes me sick. I actually threw up this morning because of it. I didn’t tell anyone.”

Adam stared at him, baffled; in silence, but no longer shut off.

“So, Adam, you don’t have to do this alone. I think you should tell your sister about the panic attacks, but if you feel like you can’t… you can call me. Or text me, if that’s easier.”

Adam nodded slowly, pondering the offer.

“And remember that, it’s not just for you. It would help me too. Alison and Diana have been through enough already. And… well, I don’t think they completely understand either.”

Lawrence offered Adam a small smile, to show that he meant it. And Adam, still a little dazed by the sudden wave of direct, honest information shared with him, smiled back.

They stayed like this for a little longer, half watching the TV, half silently enjoying each other’s presence. It felt as if they were trying to make some reserve of it for later, when they’d be alone with their thoughts. For the time being, the nightmares and the flashbacks didn’t have to be a problem. Not for the now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters were the longest. Setting the story and all that. This chapter's length will be standard from now on.

Lawrence Gordon felt a swift shiver travel down his spine when the morning breeze slipped under his shirt from the opening of his right sleeve, and down his collar. He probably should have put on his jacket, but it had looked so sunny out when he was changing into his regular clothes. How treacherous the sun could be, sometimes, shining so bright, yet emanating such a small amount of warmth. It would probably get warmer as the day went by, he told himself, hoping that his first day out of the hospital would be comfortable.

He was sitting in a wheelchair in the parking lot, with an orderly standing next to him, holding his crutches for him. He could have used his crutches to get here, and he could have just stood while he waited, but the staff had refused to let him do so. It was silly, since he was being released exactly _because_ he could now get around in his crutches without too much difficulty. He would be using them whenever he was not lying on his back, resting.

But the policy was the policy, and he wasn’t exactly in a position to argue with it, he presumed.

After what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence between him and the young orderly, he finally saw Alison’s car approaching, emerging from the underground levels of the parking lot. When she parked the car right in front of them, he stood, managing to suppress a frustrated sigh when the young man by his side grabbed his arm to provide the support he didn’t think he needed. That kid seemed to be hardly over twenty, young, fit, handsome. Everything a middle-aged man with a missing foot wished he didn’t have to compare himself to. And yet, that was exactly the picture he was faced with as his crutches were handed out to him one by one.

“Thank you,” he said, trying to sound sincere. The kid was just doing his job, and probably had to deal with grumpy old farts all day.

“No problem, Dr. Gordon,” replied the kid as Alison exited the car and walked over to Lawrence to help him to the passenger seat. “I hope you get settled in nicely at home.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” Lawrence asked.

The orderly seemed a little surprised by the request. “Um, James, sir.”

“Alright, James. You have a nice day.”

And with this, he found himself dragged to the car by Alison, who politely smiled at the orderly in passing. She helped him get into his seat, and then stored his crutches in the backseat. In a matter of minutes, she was back in the driver’s seat, and driving away.

The ride back home was mostly silent. Not exactly tense, but not exactly comfortable either. At some point she asked him if he wanted anything special for lunch later. He said no.

Things with Alison were… a little better than before the ‘incident.’ He could see that she was trying, that she had been shaken up by the events and that, for Diana’s sake, she was trying to make this work. The silent treatment and passive aggressive comments were gone, for one. Not that he hadn’t deserved them before, though. Alison and he were never really the yelling type. Big, loud arguments were not really something they did in their house. Of course, they had fights, lots of them. But the rest of the time, they kept up appearances, and instead threw each other swift metaphorical knives under the table, when Diana was not looking.

He had started seeing Carla, his intern, and while Alison and he did not talk about those things, he knew she knew. Well, she did not _know_ know, but she knew something was up. When he left late at night to “go back to the hospital,” she’d dodge his attempts at a goodbye kiss, give him the cold shoulder. When he came back in the middle of the night and snuck into bed next to her, she pretended to be asleep, as far from his side of the bed as she possibly could without dropping to the floor. When she slept, she had a light snore that he had once found adorable. And on those nights where she pretended, all to avoid his conversation, she was completely silent, and her body rigid. He knew when it was fake, but said nothing of it, choosing instead to let her rage alone.

He had started resenting her, too, with time. Even though he was the one cheating in the first place. He was the one who had started it, who was to blame. But the whole chronology of events gets jumbled when you’re standing right in the middle of it. And he’d started hating her, just because she hated him first.

They never argued in front of Diana, always put their normal married parents masks on when she was around, but she was a smart kid. He could tell from the questions she asked sometimes, on the rare occasions when he was the one to tuck her in at night, that she knew things were not so smooth between mom and dad.

But for now, all of that seemed to have been left behind. For now. Alison was civil. From the look on her face when he had woken up for the first time after his surgeries, she had even seemed genuinely relieved to see him alive and well. She had seemed truly, deeply worried. And he could remember how terrified he himself had been at the thought of losing them both. Not just Diana, but her too, the woman he had loved, and the mother of the child he couldn’t bear to lose. The hate they had slowly built up over time had ended up looking childish and insignificant in the face of imminent death and loss.

And for that, he was willing to match Alison’s efforts at being civil and making this work. But how long would this last?

All of this had made them re-evaluate their priorities, for certain. He had received two messages from Carla since his hospitalization, but he had ignored them. This was never going to happen again. It had already been dwindling near the end anyway, but that was beside the point. Now more than ever, he wanted to focus on his family, and re-earn their trust. If Alison was letting go of old grudges, so could he.

But all of this had not renewed their old love. In a way, he still loved her, cared for her, and that would never really change, after everything they had been through together, but he did not… _love_ her. Not anymore. Maybe he never really had. He was pretty sure Alison had not suddenly fallen back in love with him either. The awkwardness that had been there for years was still very much present and felt.

Maybe marriage after a decade was not meant to be about love. Maybe it was about compromise, and setting aside differences to raise a child together. And if so, maybe this is what they were going to do.

But he worried. That it would all go back to the way things were. And they would hurt Diana in the process. That’s the one thing he could never forgive himself if things went wrong.

“Home Sweet Home,” Alison said with a smile, as she pulled into their parking spot.

Lawrence smiled in return, and patiently waited for her to get out of the car, hand him his crutches, and help him to the door.

oOoOo

He had been back home for about two days when he got his first text from Adam. It was 2:13 in the morning. He was not sleeping either, kept awake by the pain in his leg and some generally unpleasant thoughts. He almost jumped when he heard the gadget vibrating on his nightstand.

_I’m having a panic attack_

That’s all it said. Glancing briefly at Alison’s still body next to him to see if she’d been disturbed by the sound  – she was snoring, so he knew she was really sleeping – he then slowly slipped his legs out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the mattress.

_Hold on, I am calling you._

As silently as possible, he grabbed his crutches and made his way out of the bedroom, along the hallway and into his office. He propped his crutches against one of his filing cabinets, and used his hands to keep his balance the rest of the way to his desk chair.

He grabbed the receiver of his office phone and dialed the number showing up on his cell phone screen. He heard it ring a few times, before it clicked.

“Hey man,” Adam said, trying to sound casual. If being upfront via text message was easier, letting oneself be vulnerable on the phone was something else entirely. But Lawrence did not miss the little shake in his voice, and the slightly faster breathing reverberating in his ear.

“Hey Adam. I am glad you called.” He made sure to sound very calm, and as comforting as he could. Anything to make the other man feel safe, somehow. “Tell me a little bit about what you’re feeling.”

“Uh… I don’t know, it’s… my mouth is really dry, and I feel like I am going to throw up. I feel like I can’t breathe right, like my throat is all _nah man, I’m done_. It feels like my heart is going to burst. Is it normal that this feels like a heart attack?”

“Yes, it’s a common assumption for people experiencing their first panic attacks.”

“I mean, it’s not like I know what a heart attack _should_ feel like, but the first time it happened, that’s what I thought.” Adam paused for a second. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Adam, what you’re feeling right now feels very real, and it’s scary. But it is not dangerous. It feels like it’s hurting you, but it isn’t.”

He heard a scoff on the other end of the line. “Thanks, doc. Always nice to be reminded it’s all in my head. Next stop, the asylum.”

Lawrence’s first instinct was to defend himself, but he brushed it off as Adam’s defense mechanism. Most importantly, he needed to keep a calm, stable tone. Adam’s sarcastic tone was clearly a façade for what was still going on in his brain.

“You’re not crazy, Adam. The sensations are very real. Tell me what you were doing when it happened.”

“Uh…” For a second, he sounded like he was catching his breath. “Nothing, really. I was lying in bed, and then I heard this creaking in the closet, and then I started having these thoughts, and then I started sweating and feeling sick.”

“Ok, that happens. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to do a breathing exercise. And no, don’t scoff, it helps.” It sounded like Adam wanted to make a snide comment at that, but since Lawrence beat him to it, he just stayed silent. “I am going to count to five while you breathe in through your nose. Then I’ll count to five again while you breathe out through your mouth. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Alright. In… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… Out… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5…” He listened intently to the sound of Adam following his rhythm. “In… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… Out… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… You’re doing great, Adam. We’ll get through this. Let’s go again.”

They repeated the exercise multiple times, Lawrence didn’t really know how many exactly. But he kept counting for Adam’s breathing until he felt that the latter was a little more in control.

After that, he made Adam talk to him about random other things, what he ate for dinner, what his favorite food is and why, and any other neutral topic he could think of, for at least another twenty minutes, until he was sure the young man was passed the attack, and feeling safe again. Or at least, safe enough.

The twenty-minute extra turned into more of an hour-long chat, but he wasn’t really tired anyway. He let the other man tell him about anything that came to his mind, and he asked him questions whenever he could, kept him going.

“Anyway,” Adam eventually said with slightly prolonged syllables, as if realizing how much he had monopolized the conversation. “How is it at home?”

Lawrence sighed. “It’s great to be back with Diana,” he said as the safe answer. “She’s been doing much better, her nightmares seem to be subsiding already. She still sometimes come to sleep with us, but she’s been strong.”

“Good, that’s good.” A beat. “And you? How are you?”

Lawrence smiled as he leaned back into his chair. “Not too bad, I suppose. I can’t say I’ve been sleeping great. I mean, the fact that I picked up the phone at two in the morning tells you something about that.” He chuckled a little awkwardly at his own comment, trying to keep it somewhat light. “But I guess Alison’s presence in the room helps a little bit sometimes. Better than being alone.”

“Is it the nightmares?”

“Uhm…” Lawrence scratched his forehead, trying to pinpoint the main reason of his insomnia. “I’d say it’s more the pain in my leg. There’s only so many pain killers I can take within the same two-hour period. But there are also some flashes, here and there. Some images stuck in my brain, which tend to resurface in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, I feel you,” Adam said, before stammering, “I mean, not for the leg, I… wouldn’t really know about that. But... the flashes in the brain thing.”

Lawrence smiled. “And your shoulder? How’s the pain?”

“Still a bitch. But, I’ll get through it, it’s not that bad.”

“Well, don’t forget to get it checked again if you notice anything unusual.”

“Yeah, yeah, doc, I will.”

It was no secret that, when Adam called him doc, it was meant sarcastically. But that made Lawrence smile anyway. He preferred sarcastic Adam to unwell Adam.

“Anyway,” Adam repeated, seeming to finally notice the time. It was 3:34 AM. “I guess I should go, and try to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

“Alright. Well, just call again if it comes back, ok?”

“Yeah doc.”

“Alright. Good night, Adam.”

“G’night Lawrence.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

After nine days spent at his sister’s, Adam figured it was time for him to go back to his actual home. He had abused enough of his sister’s generosity, he had to get back to reality. Plus, Tommy was really starting to get on his nerves.

It did not seem to sit too well with Amy that he was returning to that termite hole already. She was not convinced he was ready, and to be honest, neither was Adam. But he needed to get his life back on track, and staying at Amy’s only made it seem like time was suspended, like he had not stepped back into the real world yet. It felt safer, but it wasn’t real. It was delusion.

The last update from the police department had informed them that new Jigsaw victims had been found. Their bodies, to be more specific. Not everyone could be as lucky as they had been.

 Knowing that Jigsaw was still active, out there, was terrifying. But it also meant that they weren’t quite on his radar anymore. He had moved on to new victims. Like that woman with the scars on her mouth from a few months ago on the news, they had survived and he was giving them a second chance, or whatever he called it. They’d escaped due to luck more than merit, but it seemed that it was all the same difference for the Jigsaw Killer. Plus, police cars were instructed to drive past Lawrence’s house and Adam’s apartment on a regular basis, just in case.

That’s, at least, what Adam recited to Amy to reassure her, about thirty minutes before he quietly puked out the lasagna she had fed him for dinner, and sat on the cold bathroom tiles with cold sweat budding on his forehead, waiting for the color to return to his face. He found it harder to keep his food down, the closer he got to actually going back to his place. But he didn’t tell Amy about it. He had to get through this eventually, he couldn’t hide behind the comfort of others forever.

So on the morning of his move, he politely ate the cereals Amy had poured for him, willing his stomach to keep this sugary sin where it belonged, at least until he got home. The entire time, Amy stared at his face – probably at his dark circles, to be specific – but said nothing. She knew it would earn her nothing but a sarcastic, empty comment.

She gave him a ride, helped him carry his bag inside his room, which was just as messy as he had last left it, but with more dust. Amy pretended not to shudder at the sight of his torn up walls and rotting wallpaper.  This was not the first time she’d come here. She had dropped by while he was in the hospital, to grab a few things for him to have while he stayed at her place. She had come during the day then as well, too creeped out to come after sundown, and was probably accompanied by Tommy for safety. (Not that the loser could defend her against anything bigger than a spider, though.)

This was not her first visit, but the sight of unidentified bugs squirming to find hiding spots under the torn wallpaper still sent shivers down her spine.

“You know, I have a friend in real estate. Maybe she could find a good deal somewhere if I…”

“Thanks Amy, I’ll let you know if I am looking.”

The tone was kind, but firm. This was not the first time she had tried steering him towards moving, to no avail. She knew it was pointless to push any further, so instead, she sighed, gave him a quick hug, reminded him to call if he needed anything – she would call him anyway, he figured – and then left.

And just like that, he was alone again. Standing in his shithole apartment, which was just as he remembered it, minus the broken puppet and baseball bat – although some of the shards were still scattered across the floor beside the armchair – and the photos he would usually leave laying around. Those had been picked up by the police. He was grateful for not having to see them.

The door to his darkroom was propped open. A few thoughts started running through his head, increasing his heart rate, but he carefully pushed them down, to lay low for a little longer. He made a few steps towards the door and, stretching his good arm the farthest he could, pushed it closed. He didn’t need to go back in there, not for a little while. He made sure that the hallway closet door was also tightly shut, and then found himself just standing awkwardly in the middle of it all, not quite knowing what to do next.

He had spoken to his landlord two days earlier, to apologize for the late rent and explain the situation. The man was usually a real pain in the ass – hence why he always tried to pay on time, if that meant not having to talk to him – but the old fart must have watched the news, because he had just grumbled a few words that seemed to mean it was alright, and had given him an extra month to get his ducks in a row. For once in his life, he was able to play the pity card without having to lie. He didn’t get a pass on paying what he owed, but he had a bit more time to find a job, figure shit out.

Maybe he could go down to the little store where he usually bought his cigarettes, and get some newspapers for the job ads in them. That, and his cigarettes, of course.

Or maybe he could find the closest library or internet café and look there. With the limited means that he’d always had, his camera equipment and cellphone were the only luxurious items he could afford – and even his small flip phone was second hand. He played music on an old CD Walkman still. His TV was some kind of antique that he couldn’t believe still worked, and the image was always filled with static. So a computer with internet had never been an option. Not if he wanted to keep smoking. Cigarettes at least had the benefit of ensuring that his shitty life would not last longer than it had to. That was probably the root of the problem, now that he thought of it. Part of the reason why he had found himself chained to a pipe in a dirty bathroom, fighting for his right to live.

_NO, I WANT TO LIVE… I WANT TO LIVE!_

Funny, how you can be patiently waiting for death to find you as you go through the motions of life, one boring day at a time, yet when death is staring at you straight in the eyes, and the vague approach of the inevitable is no longer rhetorical but instead very real, and very imminent, suddenly the only thing that is clear is that _you don’t want to die_.

He wanted to live. And here he was. Alive. Yet nothing felt better. He was back to a shitty apartment, with no money, but this time he had more debts and a constantly bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He had his sister back. And he had Lawrence, a new friend. But when he could feel his fingers shaking, looking for that cigarette he had kept for later, and trying not to think of the food threatening to travel back out, he wondered if that was enough.

And as he lay on his bed, holding a pillow between his arms and staring at the dirty ceiling, he wondered when it was supposed to start getting better.

oOoOo

He didn’t hear the phone right away. Or at least, he didn’t recognize the sound. He frowned, looking for his bearings, slowly slipping back into the awake world. He opened his eyes and realized he must have dozed off. It happened relatively often, at different times of the day, since nights kept him up with all kinds of sounds, thoughts, visions. Ever since he had returned to his apartment, he had only managed to sleep sporadically, and only when the sun was out.

He located his cell phone on the nightstand and grabbed it just in time before it went to voicemail. “Hello?” His voice was uneven, slurring a little.

“Adam?” said Lawrence’s voice in his ear. “Did I wake you?”

Adam propped himself up on his good arm and looked at the time on his alarm clock. 12:33PM. “Uh… no, no. Not really. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check in. See how you’ve been doing at home.”

Adam had texted Lawrence to let him know he’d gone back to his apartment, and they had been texting back and forth here and there over the following few days, but this was the first time they’d spoken on the phone since.

“Uh… alright, I guess.” Silence on the other end. “I mean, creepy, obviously. But I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” said Lawrence, after a brief pause. Sometimes, it felt like whatever Adam was saying was scanned, inspected, weighed. Trying to lie to Lawrence about his wellbeing was really damn stressful and exhausting. It usually wasn’t really worth it.

But today he didn’t feel like diving into the nightmare he’d had when he had magically fallen asleep around five in the morning. He had dealt with his last two panic attacks on his own, feeling that his coming back here was all about getting back on track, and relying on another man to keep him sane seemed to contradict that.

But hearing Lawrence’s voice only reminded him how much he did, in fact, rely on his voice to make him feel safe.

“And how’s it been for you?” Adam returned the favor, thinking that hearing the doctor’s voice, without his own problems being under the microscope, would make him feel better.

Lawrence sighed. “Long. A little boring, to be honest. Evenings are great, when Diana’s here, back from school. But when Alison’s at work and Diana is at school, it gets real quiet here. I am not used to not be working. Before, I never really had leisure time, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. I still don’t.”

Adam hmm’ed at him, showing that he was listening. Lawrence continued, “I even called work to ask if I could be doing any paperwork for them. I hate paperwork.”

Adam chuckled. “Yeah. That sounds like something you’d do.”

Lawrence sighed, but with a hint of self-deprecation. “They told me to get off the phone and rest.”

“Yeah, ‘cause unlimited time to think about shit is really bound to help.”

Lawrence chuckled in turn. “Yeah…”

“Have people around you suggested stupid hobbies you should try? Like macramé or papier mâché? As if the French accents in the names make it more therapeutic and shit.”

“I am pretty sure someone suggested scrapbooking, actually.”

“HA.” Adam laughed in one, loud sarcastic syllable. “Idiots.”

“Under other circumstances, I’d read a book, since I used to never really find the time to do that. But it’s hard to focus on the words. It’s too exhausting. I started watching these re-runs on TV, some hospital-themed show.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I am pretty sure it’s called ER. Or OR, now that I think about it, I am not sure.”

Adam smiled at the thought of renowned oncologist Dr. Gordon watching a sappy show like ER. “And how’s that been for you?”

“It’s… interesting.”

“It’s trash.”

“Absolute garbage.”

The both of them laughed a little, and then silence settled in between the two again. Adam just held the phone to his ear and tried to make out the rhythm of the other man’s breathing, just to remind himself that there was another living person on the other end of the line. As long as the faint sounds reaching his ear were there, he didn’t have to feel as alone as he’d had merely a few minutes earlier.

“So anyway,” Lawrence eventually continued. “I am going to be on my own for another few hours, and I really don’t want to have to watch more of that show today…”

“Yeah…” Adam dragged out, feeling guilty about what he was about to say. “I don’t think I can afford to speak on the phone for this long again. My phone bill is getting a little out of hand already…”

The truth was, he really wanted to stay on the phone. As long as they spoke, he didn’t have to focus on the creaking sounds of his walls and floor, and on the haunting emptiness of his hallway closet. He didn’t want to hang up, but he also really couldn’t afford more of those extra charges on his phone bill.

“Actually, what I was thinking, since it seems like you’ve been locked up in that apartment of yours for a few days now…” That wasn’t entirely true, Adam had gone out, bought newspapers and cigarettes. He’d even been to that internet café once already, and dropped a few resumés here and there. But other than that, yeah, that was pretty accurate. “I thought maybe you’d like to come over. Bit of a change of scenery for you, and a salvation from modern TV for me.”

Adam gawked silently for a little while, processing the offer. It felt a little too generous, he didn’t know if he wanted this kind of pity invite. But then again, Lawrence did say he was bored, which could be a euphemism for ruminating dark thoughts. And a subway ticket sure was more affordable than a 2-hour phone call, now that he had already busted his minutes for the month.

“I mean,” Lawrence continued, when faced with the absence of a reaction, “in other circumstances, I would come over myself, but I am not exactly mobile yet.”

“ _Nope_. No, you don’t want to come here, no. I promise you.” Adam shuddered at the thought of Lawrence seeing his place. “Yeah, I’ll come over.”

“Wonderful.” Lawrence dictated him his address, even though he’d already entered it into his phone on the day of Adam’s discharge. Adam wrote it down anyway, on some gum wrapper he found on the floor next to his bed.

“See you in a moment.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

When he hung up, Adam felt a little lighter, but also nervous. That meant Lawrence would see his face, and would most certainly nag him about the crevasses under his eyes, which had only gotten worse since the last time they’d seen each other in person.

He went to the bathroom and did what he could to look presentable. He hadn’t exactly showered since he had come back home. No one to impress and all.

Not that he was trying to impress Lawrence. But he at least didn’t want him to think he was slipping down a slippery slope, acting all depressed or whatever. He just hadn’t bothered.

He showered, dried his hair with his only clean towel, slapped on some deodorant, and ran out to catch the subway.

oOoOo

It was 1:45PM when Adam rang at the door of the Gordon household. For a minute or two, he was met with silence, but soon he started hearing the muffled sounds of what had to be crutches hitting the floor repeatedly, until the door opened to reveal a tuft of blonde hair and a smile.

The hair was cleaner than he remembered it. He could also smell Lawrence’s cologne emanating from under his t-shirt, and he wondered if he put that on just for him, in the same way that he himself showered and put on deodorant for the first time in days a little under 40 minutes ago, or if the older man was just always this presentable all the time.

The skin was a little paler, though, compared to the last time he had seen him. Maybe the insomnia, he thought.

“Hey, Adam, come in!” Lawrence stepped aside with an inviting gesture, which was not as smooth as he’d probably intended, due to the crutches, but Adam nevertheless stepped inside with a nod and a smile.

“I was just heating up some leftover spaghetti. There’s enough for two.” Lawrence explained, as he made his way to the kitchen, while Adam took off his shoes, because that seemed like the right thing to do in a place like this.

“Oh, I am not hungry, it’s cool,” Adam said absent-mindedly, taking in the sight of such a big, open-space area. This was just the entrance, but from here, he could see a lot of the first floor, and it seemed to go on indefinitely.

Or at least, it was way, way bigger than his apartment, and the staircase he could see further down the way seemed to indicate there was more to this than the floor they were on.

“Adam,” the concerned voice came from the kitchen. He braced himself for what was coming, as he stepped forward and came into view of Lawrence, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking in his direction with a look. The look. “You clearly haven’t been eating much lately. You’re not leaving this place without eating something.”

“Nah, man, really, it’s cool – ”

“I am sorry if I made it seem like there was a choice here. There isn’t.” Lawrence’s expression was dead serious, and Adam found himself gaping for a little bit, before nodding dumbly. Lawrence was usually more on the ‘friendly reminders’ end of the spectrum, but apparently, he could also handle the strict parent – or doctor – tricks too. Made sense, for a man who was both a dad and a doctor. There may have been a tiny amount of humor somewhere under that approach, but Adam didn’t dare test it.

Lawrence popped two tupperwares into the fancy-looking microwave, one after the other, before transferring their content onto fancy plates – and by fancy, Adam really just meant that they were clean, not broken in any way, and were part of a matching set. He wondered why Lawrence didn’t just serve the food in the original tupperwares, since that just meant more dishes to clean, but then he remembered rich people had dishwashers. Right.

Lawrence motioned for him to sit at the table, and he complied, worried that he’d get dad-level lectures if he didn’t. He genuinely did not feel like ingesting food, but he grabbed his fork and dug it into the saucy food anyway, taking a bite that was just big enough to earn himself a satisfied nod from the other man.

“Man, this is good,” Adam said after the first bite had gone down his throat. This was way better than whatever canned sauce he usually used. That is, whenever he even bothered cooking anything, which was rarely. He took a second bite. “Woah, really good.” He wasn’t sure it would stay down, but he was willing to give this a try. He indeed hadn’t been eating much in the past few days, and this was better than anything he’d eaten in the last weeks… or months even. No offense intended for his sister’s food. She tried.

Lawrence smiled. “This is Alison’s mother’s recipe. Her spaghetti sauce is legendary in the entire family.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He gobbled down that food, now certain that it would come out the wrong way later, at the rate he was going. Carpe diem, they said, right?

“So, how’s the job search?” Lawrence asked. Adam had mentioned in one of their conversations from a while back that he was going to look for something different, he didn’t know what yet.

“Oh, y’know.” Adam shrugged. “I applied to a few places. Waiting for someone to get back to me.”

“That’s good. What line of work are you looking into?”

Adam suppressed a scoff. _Line of work_ , as if he was shopping for a fucking career. “Um, anything, really. Some stores, some cleaning jobs. It’s a little hard, since I can’t lift too much shit, with the shoulder and all. But it’s been going alright I guess.”

“Well, that’s good. That should surely help you get back on your feet.”

Adam nodded, but he knew the implication behind that statement. That these kinds of jobs were temporary, to keep him busy until he looked for something better. That implied he _could_ find something better. Lawrence did not understand that stalking people _had_ _been_ the ‘better’ option. Somewhat more exciting than cleaning after others or frying calories for a living. But now that anything involving a camera was off the table…

He could feel Lawrence’s eyes on him, and in that specific instant, it made him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t know if was the fancy house, that stank of wealth, or just the fact that Lawrence looked somewhat well put together and Adam didn’t feel that way at all, but Lawrence’s glance, usually comforting, suddenly looked patronizing.

“Have you… been taking any pictures lately?” Lawrence tried, understanding that he was on delicate territory, yet threading on it anyway.

“Not really, no.”

“Yeah… I guess, that’s understandable. It may take a while.”

“I think it’s gonna take more than a while.”

Lawrence looked at him with a concerned frown. “You know, I wasn’t referring to the work that you did before. I assume you must have enjoyed photography in other ways before that.”

Adam pushed his food around his plate with his fork, preferring to stare at his pasta instead of taking in Lawrence’s well-meaning expression. “What are you getting at, Lawrence?”

The other seemed a little surprised at the biting question, if the pause that ensued was anything to go by. “I am just trying to see if that’s something you’d like to explore professionally. In the long term, I mean.”

At that, Adam raised his eyes and looked at him. “Long term? What does that even mean?”

“I mean, after you get back on your feet.” Lawrence was starting to look a little destabilized at Adam’s reaction to the subject. Adam didn’t understand why he looked so surprised. What had he expected? Tears? Him innocently opening up about his childhood dreams and ambitions?

“After I get back on my feet? Lawrence, people like us, we don’t just suddenly save up enough money to go explore fancy career options. We keep our head above water, and that’s an everyday problem. Whatever shitty job I get, that’s not gonna be an in-between while I go get myself a fancy education. Shitty jobs is all I’ll ever get. To pay for rent, food, and make it to another day of shitty, boring work. Not all of us get to live in houses like this and become decent respected members of society. Some of us just struggle to survive.”

The two men stared at each other for what felt like an uncomfortably long time, but was probably just a few seconds. Eventually, Lawrence lowered his eyes, looking defeated. And just like that, Adam felt stupid for snapping. Maybe his feminist vegan ex-girlfriend was right: he _was_ too angry.

“Adam…” Lawrence trailed off. Now _he_ was the one pushing his food around. “Adam, I am sorry. I meant well, but… I was a little insensitive there.”

Adam sighed and leaned back on his chair. “Nah, man, I am sorry. I guess I am just a little snappy lately.”

Lawrence nodded in his direction, and offered him a faint, but genuine smile. And just like that, Adam could see the exhaustion that hadn’t been so evident in his eyes before, but was now clear as day. They were both doing their best. Adam let the left corner of his lips pull in a half-smile, which seemed to satisfy Lawrence. They finished their meal in silence, but the tension was gone.

The rest of the afternoon was spent mostly on the couch, browsing through TV channels, and dissing whatever was on the screen. Adam avoided commenting on how many damn channels they had, and instead focused on enjoying the presence of the man sitting right next to him.

Alison and Diana got back around five, and Adam quickly gathered his things to leave, after politely greeting the two. Alison had looked a little surprised upon seeing him, but had smiled politely before going into the kitchen with the plastic bags she was carrying. Diana had greeted him with a shy smile, as she buried her face in her dad’s hip, but he could see her daring swift, intrigued looks in his direction every few seconds. He had to admit, it was a little adorable.

As he was putting his shoes back on, he saw Lawrence making his way towards him on his crutches, probably to see him off. Adam put on his jacket, and he was nodding his goodbye, his hand already on the doorknob, when Lawrence went to say something.

“Um, before you go…” He moved his hand and Adam noticed that he was holding something. A book. “I know you’ve mentioned you’re not much of a reader, and if you’re like me, it’s not exactly easy to focus on anything remotely intellectual these days, but I also know that days get long. So if you need anything to pass the time… here.”

Adam frowned a little, taking the book that was handed out to him. _The Great Gatsby._ “Oh, Larry, is that part of your plan to turn me into a fancy fuck like you? Reading the classics?”

Lawrence recognized the sarcasm in his tone which, unlike earlier, was playful. He smiled. “Look, I have never been much of a fan of fiction novels myself, but this was one of the books I enjoyed reading way back when. I figured this is as good a way to start as any.”

Adam looked at the book from all its angles, before opening it and flipping through a few pages. “You don’t have to read it or anything, I am not going to quiz you with I see you next,” Lawrence continued, starting to sound a little nervous. “I just wanted you to have it, in case.”

Adam looked up, meeting Lawrence’s eyes, and smiled. “Thanks, man.”

Lawrence smiled back, looking a little relieved. “Have a safe trip back.”

Adam nodded, and left, the book tucked safely under his arm.


	5. Chapter 5

Lawrence was in his bed, his back resting against the wall – with a collection of pillows blocking any direct contact between his back and the actual wall surface – trying to read. It was still hard to focus, and at regular intervals, he instead found himself redirecting his glance towards the sleeping figure next to him.

Alison was snoring lightly, looking peaceful, something he envied her. She could sleep with the lights on with no trouble, whereas he, even before this whole Jigsaw thing, was a particularly light sleeper. The faintest flash of light or tiniest sound was always enough to pull him out of the sleep he had struggled to slip into in the first place. And now that he had phantom pains and nightmares added into the mix, sleeping had become just too exhausting.

So he was reading, hoping it would take his mind off the thoughts it kept churning, and tire his eyes.

It did not.

He lowered his book and took off his reading glasses, delicately putting them back down on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He rubbed a hand across his face, as if to brush the frustration off of it. When he lowered his hand again, his eyes found their way back to the indefinite form of his wife’s silhouette under the covers, her blonde locks spreading over her pillow, and the smooth patch of neck skin he could somewhat see from this angle.

He wondered when he had stopped feeling attracted to her.

No, scratch that. He wondered when he had stopped feeling intrigued and aroused by a woman’s body. He had never been as… passionate as his friends had been in high school and college. He had friends with very active sex lives, to whom the only thing about as good as sleeping with a pretty girl was telling all of their friends about it. He had heard it all. But while he may never have felt that same urgency that seemed to drive so many men around him – he admitted, however, that his circle of friends was not necessarily representative of the entire male gender – he had always felt curious, and somewhat fascinated by the female body. He had figured he was just one of those guys who needed to meet the right girl to feel more tempted.

And meeting Alison had proven his theory. Or so he thought at the time. They were getting along well, they would laugh at the same jokes. He thought they had a real connection. And they did, really. She would admire his ambition, he would admire hers. And she was truly, really beautiful. She had seemed to genuinely love him, and he had felt for her what he had never felt for any other woman before her. It had felt so right.

And today, after years of gradually navigating dissatisfaction, frustration, and ultimately loathing, he now found himself feeling nothing more than… indifference. He could no longer bring himself to hate her, and he could sense that she didn’t hate him either, not anymore. But he felt indifferent. Almost apathetic. He cared for her and her wellbeing, but when it came to her as a wife, a partner, a lover… he was left with blandness, a complete and utter lack of attraction. And she seemed somewhat on the same page, if the past couple weeks since his discharge from the hospital was any indicator.

Sex with Alison had always been a little awkward. But he had figured that, well, that’s just sex for you. Being naked and intimate with someone else may never be comfortable for some people, he had accepted that about himself. It was good, it felt good, it had brought them closer. It made sense.

But after years of this, with the desire for sex fading slowly and them both growing apart, he had started feeling frustrated, like something was really missing. Maybe this wasn’t normal after all. He wanted to feel something, just… something. He didn’t really know what it was, couldn’t quite put his finger on it. But something.

That’s when he had started seeing Carla. She had shown up at quite an opportune time, when his frustration level was just high enough that, when she would blink at him a few times too many and bring him coffee in-between rounds, he found he could not push her away.

He had seen her for a few months, four, maybe five. It started out innocent, going out for coffee or for dinner, far enough from the hospital that they would not meet people they knew. They would talk. Just talk. And then, one day, they had met at a shady motel, and that’s when they had slept together for the first time. That is when he had crossed the line, had officially become a cheating husband, and while the guilt had eventually started eating at him at night when he lay in bed with his sleeping wife, _boy_ had it felt exciting for the first couple of weeks. For a time, he felt he had found a woman he was truly attracted to, and maybe his wife had just never really been right. Maybe he could feel alive and passionate with a woman after all.

But soon enough, the indifference had started settling in again. Sex with Carla was becoming less exciting, and slowly, it just went back to being awkward intimacy between two people. That’s when he started dodging her invitations, seeing her less and less often, until that night when he had told her it was over. That was the night he decided that cheating had never been the solution. Passion, attraction… all of that was just too fleeting, and he did not want to go on a series of meaningless one-night stands to keep reviving it, to keep feeling anything.

Just a few hours after his last encounter with Carla, he had woken up in a dirty bathroom, forced to face the music of his actions. Once and for all.

Lawrence sighed. Clearly, he was not going to sleep just yet. He should probably just get up and do something productive, rather than lie in bed and hope to fall asleep.

Quietly, he reached for his crutches, slipped out of bed, and slowly made his way out of the bedroom. He went to his office, where he knew he wouldn’t wake either of the other two occupants in the house, while also not having to go down the stairs. He carefully put his crutches on the floor by his desk, before dropping his weight into the chair. He turned on his laptop, and started browsing the internet mindlessly.

He tried reading some articles, but found it was not any more successful than when he tried reading a book. He tried playing solitaire, but got bored within the first fifteen minutes. He bounced from site to site for a while, until eventually, without really thinking about it, he opened an incognito window and started searching for content he would not be looking for if it wasn’t two in the damn morning, and everybody in the house was asleep.

It had been a while, since he had last looked at pornography. Even before the “incident.” With work, and Alison, and Carla, and… everything, he had grown complacent, in a way. Always too tired to think about it.

He browsed some of the pictures and, after making sure one last time that he had closed the door, he started undoing the laces of his pajama pants. He put on his earphones, and clicked on a video. He watched a few seconds, before moving to the next, and repeated the operation a few times. It was always difficult, finding the type of content that would do it for him. He figured maybe that was the age, although he had always been a little picky. After a while he settled on a fellatio video, and slowly slid his hand into his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around his penis, giving it a few strokes, and slowly felt it harden. After a while, though, he grew dissatisfied with the clip he was watching, and started browsing again with his left hand, keeping his right one where it was.

He’d watch a minute or so of one and stroke himself, before moving to another one, and so on. After a while, he considered giving up on the visual aids, and just using his own imagination, when a tab in the corner of the webpage caught his attention.

He hesitated. He had watched that kind of content once in a while before. It often felt like the women in pornography were a little distracting. They were loud and unrealistically portrayed. He had never found it particularly arousing to watch pornography where women are demeaned and objectified. He guessed that was the point, but… it did not really do it for him. He’d figured it just made him a decent guy, and sometimes, he would watch that other kind of porn, the kind with only men in it, because he could transpose himself into the people on screen, and focus on his pleasure without worrying about problematic gender roles. There was nothing wrong with that.

Still, he felt guilty as he hovered the mouse over the tab. There was something a little taboo about it. He certainly would have had a hard time explaining this to his male college friends. But he wasn’t in college anymore. He was a forty-one year old man, who had not had sex in about two months, and if this was the way to release, then fuck it.

He clicked on it, and selected one of the first videos he saw. Two men were on screen, as a short dialogue was used as an intro, for the sake of inserting some form of storyline. Within minutes, clothes were off, penises were hard, and the two men were slowly moaning against each other. Lawrence followed their rhythm, feeling his abdomen contract every few strokes. His breathing accelerated, and soon got a little hectic. This felt good, really good, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat as a slow, sensual moan emerged from the earphones on his head. He let out a few more ragged breaths before the release came, as he held a tissue to limit the damage. Slowly, he  felt every muscle in his body relax, after having contracted so suddenly.

He rested the back of his head against the backrest of his chair, staring at the ceiling for a while, focusing on nothing other than his own slow, deep breathing.

oOoOo

It had been about four weeks since the incident, when Lawrence and Adam were summoned to the police station. Few details had been given on the phone, but it seemed they had some new evidence to run through them.

They were greeted by Detectives Marenger and Boyle at the station, and were taken to an office further down, beyond the livelier areas of the department.

“Mr. Stanheight, Dr. Gordon. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. We hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience,” Detective Marenger said, as a formality.

“Anything you need, detectives,” Lawrence replied politely. Adam remained silent, possibly a little intimidated by the environment he found himself in.

“The reason we called you in today is due to some new evidence, as may have been explained to you on the phone. The truth is, a new survivor of Jigsaw has been found.”

The information stunned the two men for a moment. When faced with silence, Detective Marenger continued. “Up until now, all we had were generic descriptions of Jigsaw, different fragments that did not allow us to pinpoint his identity.” 

That was true. In fact, Adam was the only survivor who had seen Jigsaw’s face. Others had only seen him with a mask, a hood, or not at all, having only seen the puppet or listened to recorded tapes by him. Adam had given a description in his statement, but it wasn’t much to work with: an old man, pale skin, small eyes, medium build. With the latex and fake blood covering his head and face, he had not been able to identify other distinctive features. At that moment, Lawrence had been making his way across the angular hallway of the building they were held at. He had not seen him. Jigsaw had either left in the other direction, or Lawrence had already fainted when he had passed him.

“But now, this new victim, Mr. Jordan. Lucky guy, in a twisted way. He didn’t play the game, he was too scared. He waited in the room patiently, waiting for either rescue or starvation, whichever came first. What saved him was his wife. Very jealous woman, that one. She was so convinced he was cheating on her, she inserted a tracking device into his jacket. God knows how she got her hands on that.” The detective chuckled a little, before continuing. “Our killer took off Jordan’s jacket before putting him in the trap, but it remained on the premises nearby. That’s how we found him. Now, of course, Jigsaw had fled by the time we arrived, but he must have left in a hurry, because he did leave something behind.”

An evidence bag was placed before them. Inside, a small bottle of pills. No prescription slip, no identification. Only a few large, peach-colored pills at the bottom of the container.

“Xelox. A drug commonly used for colon cancer treatment. Now, that’s not much to work with, without the prescription, but we did find fingerprints on the bottle.” His eyes turned to Lawrence. “Yours.”

Lawrence felt his blood run cold. “Excuse me?” After everything, were they really back to this? “I hope you’re not implying…”

Detective Marenger smiled politely. “Of course not, Dr. Gordon. Jigsaw, even in his mistakes, is too smart to leave his own fingerprints. But whose fingerprints could be on the bottle if not the patient's?” He waited a little for suspense. Lawrence briefly thought that this wasn’t very professional, this was torture, but he needed to know.  So he waited. “The hospital staff. More specifically, his doctor.”

Lawrence frowned, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw Adam’s figure shifting in his seat. They both waited for the detective to provide more of an explanation.

“We think we have identified a suspect who matches the description. We need you to identify him.” Detective Boyle slipped an envelope from under his arm, and from it pulled out a photograph, which he handed out to Adam. The latter looked confused, but took it regardless. “Does any of you recognize this man?”  

Adam took one look and instantly, cold sweat started forming on his hairline, and a shiver traveled down his spine.

“That’s him.” Adam said, in a choked whisper, before repeating, a little louder. “That’s him. That – that’s the man in the bathroom. That’s Jigsaw.”

His hand was shaking as he handed the picture to Lawrence.

“Are you absolutely sure of this, Mr Stanheight?” asked Detective Marenger.

“Yes. I am sure.”

But the voices of Adam and the detectives were already sounding distant to Lawrence’s ears, absorbed as he was by the photograph in his hands. What he was looking at was a snapshot from a security camera. He recognized the walls of his hospital. The hallway was not too busy, it must have been very early morning. In the center, an old man, slumped shoulders, who just so happened to be looking in the direction of the camera, as if he knew, as if he wanted him to know.

Pale, sickly-looking skin. The thin, tired eyes. It all matched Adam’s description. But that’s not what Lawrence was thinking about, because the face presented to him… he knew it. He recognized it instantly, even though it had been a while since he had last seen it in person. And none of this made sense… how…

“Dr. Gordon?” He came back to reality, as if dragged out of a trance, and looked up to find both detectives, and Adam, staring at him with concern. “Dr. Gordon, do you recognize this man?”

“Uh…” he said, looking down at the picture once more, before meeting Detective Marenger’s eye once more. “Yes. I do. This is John Kramer. He’s a patient of mine.”

Adam was looking at him with wide eyes, as the detectives nodded at this piece of information. “Yes, when we looked up Mr. Kramer, we found that he was hospitalized at Angel of Mercy Hospital for cancer, colon. He seems to have been referred to a different specialist a little over a month ago, about a week before you and Mr. Stanheight’s kidnapping.”

He had. He could not remember the exact reason, but it had been the patient’s request. Something about moving, nothing he had deemed worthy of remembering back then.

The detectives took a few notes and started explaining some next steps and precautions for them, but Lawrence was no longer paying attention. As they spoke, he started remembering. An image, a dream… a memory? He was in the hallway he had crawled through, there was a smell of burnt skin and flesh in the air, and a face was looking down at him. The face of John Kramer. He felt some water dripping on his face, and some words reverberated against the walls of his ear, although he could only catch fragments. _Congratulations… you survived..._ And then, darkness.

The image had come to him before, but it was so blurry, and also, so random. He had assumed it had been a hallucination or a dream, the kind of symbolic message Freud theorized about. What he knew had happened is that he had crawled for what had felt like forever, until he had come across a steaming pipe, and, knowing it was his only chance to stop the blood loss, he had cauterized his wound. After that, he couldn’t remember anything, he had understandably fainted. The rest had to have been a mere symptom of the blood loss. He had never given it much thought.

But it seemed now that he should have.

The rest of the conversation was a blur. He may have told the detectives about his memory, or he may not, he wasn’t sure. He was driven back home, and he spent the rest of the day in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Alison tried to come and gently snap him out of it a few times, but eventually just gave up.

He spent the rest of the day alone with his thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Adam had found a job as a janitor in a nursing home, and had been working there for a couple of weeks. He mostly did night shifts, which his new boss was happy about. No one ever wanted to work nights, but Adam did. That way, he had an excuse to not be in his apartment at night, when any sound or optical illusion in the dark was prone to provoke a wave of nausea and panic. That way, he could sleep during the day, when it was bright out and his demons were dormant, without having to feel like a slob for it.

He was deep into an agitated dream when he was violently dragged out of it by a pounding on his door. He sat up on his bed with a gasp, arm flailing a little. His brain was slower to respond, and it was only on the third bout of pounding that he identified the noise as, indeed, coming from his front door.

He rolled off his bed and clumsily made his way across the hallway, having not yet regained full balance and control of his limbs. He opened the door in one swift movement, ready to yell at whoever was on the other side, but dropped all signs of irritation when he found himself faced with Lawrence.

“Hey…” Lawrence said, looking both a little flustered, and a little embarrassed.

“Lawrence?” Adam frowned and blinked a few times. Now that the adrenaline of the moment had washed off, he could feel the weight of exhaustion pressing against his lids against, and his eyes felt particularly dry. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I… I knocked a little, and when you didn’t answer, I… I got worried.”

Well, that explained the pounding, but not why he was here. Adam just kept staring at him, until Lawrence asked, “Did I wake you?”

“Well… yeah. I worked all night.”

“Oh, gosh. I forgot about your new job. I am so sorry. I… I can leave.” He started backing away and slowly made to leave, but Adam sighed, knowing he couldn’t just let him go now. He had certainly come here for a reason.

“No, Lawrence… it’s fine, stay.” And as he said those words, he realized this meant he would have to invite Lawrence inside. Which meant he would see his apartment. Which was exactly what Adam had been trying to avoid. But it was a little late to back down now.

Damn Lawrence for showing up unannounced, when he was too groggy from sleep to think clearly.

“Come in,” he ended up saying, dragging out the syllables a little, while stepping aside. He wanted to add a little snarky comment about the state of his place, to lighten the mood, while also preparing him mentally. But he couldn’t find the words. His sarcasm needed at least one cup of coffee to get started for the day. He figured that Lawrence had already seen the state of the building and its hallway by then, so he probably knew not to expect anything above one star anyway.

He closed the door behind him, and followed his guest into the kitchen. The older man’s pace was a little slow and still a little wobbly, as he was still getting adjusted to his newly fitted prosthetic foot. He had since traded his crutches for a cane, which made his movement much less cumbersome, but didn’t seem quite comfortable yet. This may in fact be the first time he had ventured outside of his apartment on his own since the switch – or since his discharge, actually – Adam thought. They hadn’t seen each other since the meeting at the police station, partly because Adam was starting a new job, and Lawrence was getting used to a prosthetic foot, and, well, everything else. They had texted, but the flow of communication had been a little slower.

Lawrence scanned the room quickly, standing in the middle of it, while leaning pretty heavily on his cane. He was manifestly making an effort not to react to his surroundings, Adam could see that. He appreciated the effort, he figured.

“Foot’s looking good,” Adam said, trying to divert the attention away from his crass.

“Oh, yeah. I’m still getting used to it.” Lawrence chuckled a little awkwardly, looking down at his artificial ankle, which was covered by his pants, hidden away. A secret only hinted at by the cane.

Not knowing what to say next, Adam looked down as well, allowing silence to seep in between them. He saw Lawrence fidgeting from the corner of his eye, which was unusual for him. Lawrence was usually so composed and calm, all the time. Eventually, Adam just gave in, “Lawrence, why are you here? Did anything happen?”

The older man’s right-hand fingers were fiddling with the head of his cane, as he seemed to be looking for the words to say. “It’s… it’s silly. Ali and I just had a bit of a quarrel… I had to leave, I didn’t really know where to go. I didn’t think I’d wake you.”

“Hey, no, it’s cool. It’s best I enjoy a bit of the actual daylight, right?” Adam was hoping to make the doctor smile, and he did think he saw a pull on the corner of his lips. Before more silence could be heard, he followed up with, “Do you want to sit?”

“Yes, actually, that would be great.” He vaguely gestured towards his foot and his cane. Must be hurting.

Adam guided him to the living room area, which was basically just a couch and an old TV screen in a cramped space. The kitchen only had one chair, and the table was dirty anyway, even to Adam’s standards. The couch probably didn’t inspire that much more trust, but it was the best he had to offer. Lawrence said nothing of it and sat on one end, as Adam sat on the other, resting his elbows on his knees and joining his fingers. When the doctor seemed somewhat comfortable, Adam dared asking, “What happened? With Alison, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s silly. It’s the first fight we’ve had since… this whole thing. I guess I just got a little worked up.”

“What was it about?”

“Diana. As usual. Before Jigsaw… Ali and I would argue a lot about how much I worked, how absent I was. She didn’t know about Carla, but she must have known something was going on, and while she never really _said_ anything about it, I do think it was at the root of most of the fights she started near the end. She basically felt like I didn’t care about them. I used to hate her for it, but I guess now I can’t get myself to blame her for thinking that.”

Adam wasn’t sure how he could respond to that. That was a lot of married life stuff he didn’t really understand. But he could see Lawrence was really affected by it, even though he was staring at his hands more than at Adam. After a while, Lawrence just continued, saving Adam from having to find the right words.

“Since the bathroom, we hadn’t fought, not even once. The tension was hardly there, everyone was civil. But it was a lot of pretense, you know? We both wanted to do right by Diana after what she’d been through… well, what we’d all been through. I think we both convinced ourselves that maybe we could make this work, maybe this was making us re-evaluate what was really important. But this isn’t working. This morning, it felt like someone had just pressed rewind, and we were fighting and snapping at each other like nothing had happened. And I haven’t even gone back to work yet! So there’s that to look forward to…”

“Man, I am sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t really be springing this on you.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I sprung a lot more shit on you before. It’s only fair.”

Lawrence gave him a small smile.

“When are you going back to work anyway?” Adam asked, hoping to lighten the mood. Work was good for Lawrence, right?

“Probably next week, I think. Although they’ll probably make me do paperwork for a while, since I still can’t stand for too long. Well, that’s at least something. I am going crazy, staying at home all the time.”

“Cool. That’s… good. The going back to work, I mean.”

“And how’s _your_ work? Are you… enjoying it?”

Adam snorted. “I am cleaning after old people. Not exactly the American dream. But hey, it pays alright.”

“That’s good.”

“Well, no, actually, it pays really bad. But it’s more stable than my old gigs, so I guess it’ll even out.”

“Are you doing ok? Financially, I mean.”

Adam sighed. He considered his financial situation dangerous territory when it came to conversations with Lawrence. He had found the latter tended to be on the generous side, and he didn’t want to ever imply that he needed help paying his bills.

“Ok enough.” He hoped this would suffice.

“You’re ok with your rent?” Visibly, Lawrence was feeling stubborn.

“Yeah, yeah, I spoke to my landlord, we have an arrangement and I have been following it, it’s cool.”

“Good, good.” For a moment, he thought Lawrence was letting it go. Until, “and what about your medical bills? I… take it you don’t have insurance.” Goddamnit. The one thing he didn’t want Lawrence to poke through.

“I’ll be fine, Lawrence, really. I’ll set up a payment plan, and I’ll stick to it. Please don’t worry about it. For real.”

Lawrence sustained his look for a little while, before shrugging and apparently letting it go. Thank god.

“I should probably let you go back to sleep. Is it ok if I use your bathroom first?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s on your left down the hall.”

While the doctor went to the bathroom, Adam stood and walked to the kitchen to take a look inside his fridge. He already knew what he would see: basically nothing. Just a few condiments in the door, and an expired carton of milk. He was getting a little hungry, and like every time that happened, or every time he just got bored wandering around his apartment, he had to take a look inside the fridge. As if he was holding on to the hope that, one day, it would magically fill itself up. Or he would suddenly come up with a creative snack idea which somehow only involved the random ingredients he had. It of course never happened. He usually waited it out, and when it got out of hand, he’d order some pizza or Chinese food, and would stretch it out over a few meals. He didn’t need to eat much to get full these days anyway.

“I see you’re a toilet reader, huh.”

Startled, Adam spun around to face Lawrence, who had just come out of the bathroom and was stepping inside the kitchen. The younger man had a confused look on his face, until he noticed the book in Lawrence’s hand. _The Great Gatsby._ The novel Lawrence had lent him. (Or given him? He wasn’t sure.)

“Oh, yeah, I… I have been reading a few pages here and there.”

He had found that sitting down with the specific intent to read was not exactly his forte, but bringing the book to the bathroom had been a decent excuse to read a page or two every time. He had ended up just leaving it there, on the shelf where he stored his toilet paper, next to the toilet. A small sheet of toilet paper was slipped in between pages 20 and 21, where he had left off the last time.

He wasn’t sure he liked Lawrence picturing him reading his book while pooping, though. Thankfully, Lawrence was graceful enough not to make any jokes about that.

“Do you like it so far?”

“It’s… not bad. I mean, I don’t read much, so I don’t have much to compare it with. But it feels more entertaining than whatever I had to read back in high school.”

“Wasn’t that part of your assigned readings in school?”

Adam paused a little. “Maybe. I didn’t always do my homework.”

Lawrence smiled and let out a little laugh.

“I know,” Adam added. “Hard to believe. I give off this grade A student vibe, but that’s just first impressions for ya. Can’t always trust those.”

This made Lawrence chuckle once more, and Adam felt good about himself for it.

Lawrence put the book down on the kitchen table, before meeting Adam’s eyes again. “I should get going. Sorry again for waking you.”

“No problem, doc. Thanks to you, I got my vitamin C for the day.”

“Vitamin D is the one you get from sunlight exposure.”

“Really? Sure about that?”

“Pretty sure. Medical school and all.”

“Huh. You learn every day.”

Lawrence gave him one last smile, before showing himself out. For a while, Adam debated between going back to bed, or ordering food. The bed option was free, so he ended up going with that. He would figure something out food-wise before his shift tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

Dr. Lawrence Gordon went back to work about seven weeks after the incident.

As predicted, he was met with warm greetings, pats on the back, and a whole lot of paperwork. Countless colleagues came forward to tell him how happy they were to see that he was alright and well, that he was back. In most cases, he couldn’t remember a single meaningful conversation he’d had with these people in the past. In a way, it emphasized the hypocrisy and emptiness behind all those clichéd sympathetic phrases he’d been given. But in another, it also reminded him how it was _his_ fault for never really connecting with people around him.

On his first few days back at work, he therefore made it a point to learn more names. Nurses, orderlies, patients. There were so many people who knew his name, who offered him kind words when they saw him, yet he couldn’t put a name on their faces. He knew them, had seen them around, worked with them, treated them, but did not _know_ them. He was someone who learned and forgot names constantly. He had never intended it as an act of superiority or carelessness, he just thought he was bad with names. Recent events had made him reconsider his position on the matter.

Not wanting to appear rude, he spent most of his first few days investigating names indirectly, so he wouldn’t have to ask people for it directly and prove to them he had never bothered remembering in the first place. He made a list, and hoped he’d get opportunities to casually drop those people’s names in front of them in the next few weeks, to show them that he knew them.

After a while, he realized that was a little arrogant. He kept the list, but left out the name-dropping.

He saw Carla, too, a few times, in the hallway. Every time, she smiled at him politely and kept walking, which came as a relief. He had never returned her texts.

As for things at home, they were still a little tense. Alison had apologized for her outburst, and he had done the same, but things had been awkward ever since. They were both starting to own up to their disillusionment. Things weren’t working between them, and it was becoming harder and harder to pretend.

And so, since his first visit, Lawrence had started dropping by Adam’s apartment more regularly. It was an excuse against which Alison could not protest: Adam was going through stuff, and he didn’t have much of a family, so he needed company. Or so Lawrence told her. He just needed some air, once in a while.

They were starting to have a routine, the two of them: Lawrence would drop by early in the morning, when Adam had just come back from work, and before Lawrence had to go to work himself. It turned out simpler that way. Evenings were too irregular, with Lawrence sometimes staying late at work, and Adam waking up from his day’s sleep at all kinds of hours, sometimes right before he had to leave for his night’s shift. Plus, that way, Lawrence was sure to be home for dinner with Diana, and he could tuck her in.

After a few times, Lawrence had started showing up in the morning with groceries, which Adam always fussed about. He didn’t need Lawrence to feed him, he didn’t need being taken care of, he’d say. Lawrence didn’t have to worry, he’d add. Lawrence would remind him that this wasn’t just for Adam, it was for himself as well. It helped him sleep at night to know that Adam had food to eat and was doing ok. Adam would grunt a little and accept the food, and they would do it all over again the next day.

On days that he didn’t show up with groceries, he would clean a little bit instead. Wash a few dishes in the sink, scrub those stains off the kitchen table, pick a few things up from the floor. Inevitably, Adam would be following him around, telling him to stop acting like his mom. Lawrence would laugh and brush it off.

But the rest of the time, they just talked. And when they ran out of things to talk about, they’d turn on the TV – Lawrence was amazed that this antique piece of trash actually worked – and they would watch whatever was on for a little bit.

On one of those mornings, Adam told Lawrence about his parents and how they died. How his sister and he had grown apart – although they were now speaking on the phone somewhat regularly again. How he had come to stalking people for money, how he used to have silly dreams about being a renowned photographer. How he had always been the starving artist type of person, but had eventually had to find ways to, well, not starve.

Lawrence told him about his parents – his mother had died a while back, also from cancer, like Adam’s dad. His father was in a nursing home, and was no longer very lucid. He had a brother, who lived abroad. They would talk on the phone sometimes, but not often. He had called after the events, worried, and was now checking in on him a little more regularly. But he had not been in a position to come back to the homeland and visit. Not yet at least. Maybe in a few months.

With their morning meet ups, they rarely saw each other at night. One Thursday night, however, turned out to be an exception. Lawrence and Alison had fought once again, and he had left the house in a hurry, all worked up, with no real plan. He had texted Adam, not really knowing who else to turn to, and he had received a response telling him that this was the younger man’s night off. _Come over._

And so he found himself at Adam’s. Feeling bad about showing up on such short notice again, he bought beers on the way, as an offering.

They talked and drank for a few hours, and after four beers, Lawrence had to admit he was a little tipsy. A lot more than that, actually. He hadn’t had any drinks in a while, his tolerance had become embarrassingly low. He was feeling dizzy, and he didn’t know how he would get home like this.

Adam told him he should sleep over. He could go home and shower in the morning. Lawrence couldn’t see one good reason to refuse. The bundle of springs that Adam called a bed looked anything but cozy, but in his state, he was not one to be choosy.

They kept talking for a while as they lay in bed, next to each other, until they both just fell asleep mid-sentence.

oOoOo

Lawrence woke up with a feeling of panic gripping at his throat, probably because of a nightmare, he couldn’t be sure. The first thing he thought as he opened his eyes, was that he wasn’t home, and he did not recognize where he was. His shirt was drenched in sweat and his heart was racing. It was happening again, it was happening all over again.

When he finally got his bearings and remembered that he was at Adam’s, he started feeling the cold sweat on his back indicating he was going to throw up. He barely made his way to the bathroom before he started puking everything he had ingested in the past few hours into the rusty toilet. He was shivering, his mind still somehow convinced he was in danger, he wasn’t safe. He dropped to his knees and let it all come out in waves.

After a while, he felt like there was nothing left to puke. As the shivers started dissipating, he heard the clinking sound of a glass of water being placed on the floor next to him. He didn’t dare look up, feeling embarrassed and pathetic, but he sensed Adam squatting next to him. A hand found its way to his shoulder, and slowly started stroking his back, tracing soothing circles into his sweat-soaked t-shirt. And as he felt the warmth emanating from that hand, while it continued its comforting gesture, he also started feeling the tickling feeling in his eyes, foreshadowing tears. He rubbed a hand against his face, trying to hide the first few drops trickling down the corners of his eyes, but in a matter of seconds, his whole body started shaking with sudden, uncontrollable sobs. Arms snaked their way around his quivering shoulders, and after a moment, Lawrence gave in. He let the other man hold him, as they both sat on the tiles of Adam’s bathroom floor, and the younger man stroked his hair with one hand. Lawrence rested his head in the crease where Adam’s neck and shoulder converged, and let himself be consoled in silent, rocking motions, allowing himself to show the kind of vulnerability he hadn’t let on in years.

“Shht, it’s ok,” Adam whispered, resting his chin on top of Lawrence’s head. “You’ll be ok.”

They stayed like this for a long time, until Lawrence started dozing off again, and Adam guided him back to bed, where the older man fell asleep in Adam’s arms, and with fingers gently massaging his scalp.

oOoOo

“Lawrence, the fuck did you do, man?”

Lawrence couldn’t see Adam’s expression on the other end of the line, but he could imagine it. He sounded angry, or maybe just shocked. Maybe both. The doctor thought he knew what this was about, although he didn’t want to assume.

“Hello Adam. Good to talk to you too.”

“The fuck? Don’t do that! That’s not cool!”

“Ok. How about you tell me what the problem is?”

Adam scoffed. “As if you don’t know! I just got off the phone with the hospital, to update my payment plan, and they said it had been taken care of. Did you do that?”

“I…” Lawrence sighed. He knew Adam wouldn’t like it. “I may have.”

“Lawrence, what the fuck! That’s a lot of money, you know I can’t repay you just like that!”

“You don’t have to.”

“Don’t say that, of course I do! I don’t want to be in debt to you like that.”

“No, Adam, that’s kind of the point. I didn’t take care of your debt so you’d pay _me_ back instead of the hospital. I don’t want you to pay me back, I don’t want you to owe _anyone_ money, not right now, not after everything.”

“Lawrence… Jesus Christ, that’s not cool. I… you should have known I didn’t want you to do that.”

“I know. That’s why I did it. Because I wanted to help you, not because you asked.”

Adam grunted, and for a while, all Lawrence could hear was a series of groans and huffs.

“It’s ok, Adam. It was my choice, you owe me nothing.”

“And Alison is ok with that? Isn’t your money also kinda her money too?”

“Ah… I’ll deal with Ali.”

“JESUS CHRIST. What kinda leech do I look like now?”

“Adam, listen to me. You are no such thing. I made the choice to help you. You always made it very clear you intended to deal with this on your own, I just thought it wasn’t fair for you.”

He heard Adam sigh, and then silence. Lawrence kept quiet too, patiently waiting for the other man to process everything. He probably waited a minute or two, before he heard Adam’s voice again.

“I know I should thank you, but right now, I’m just… pissed.”

“That’s ok. You don’t have to thank me. You probably shouldn’t, in fact.”

“I’ll thank you later.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“But don’t do that again, ok?”

“I’ll try not to.”

He heard another grunt as his answer failed to satisfy the other man. But the swear words Adam must have been mustering up in his head did not make it past his mouth. For now.

“Alright whatever. Bye, I guess.”

“Goodbye, Adam.”

“Yeah.”

And then, a click. And silence.

Despite the intensity of the conversation, and knowing that Adam was genuinely upset about this move, he had no regrets. After everything they had been through, and especially after his embarrassing outburst at Adam’s place the other night, which Adam had helped him with so gracefully, he had felt extra aware of the injustice of Adam having to deal with the stress of all those debts, when Lawrence just had his insurance to fall back on. He had the money, Adam needed it. It was a no-brainer.

Helping Adam made him feel good, and anything that made him feel this good was something he was willing to work hard for.


	8. Chapter 8

When the talks of divorce came up, on some cold weekend of early December, it really did not come as a surprise. Alison and he had been fighting every other day by then, to the point where Diana had again started asking heart-wrenching questions at night, when they tucked her in. Lawrence was getting a dizzying sense of déjà vu, from before… before all of this.

The one million dollar word had been dropped in the middle of a heated fight where, as usual, neither of them was shouting loud enough to be heard outside of the room they were in, but both of them were simmering, jabbing at each other with snide comments, until it had culminated and gotten out of hand.

_Divorce._

The word had come out of Alison’s mouth, and just like that, all of the intensity of the back and forth they had been having for ten straight minutes dissipated all at once. They stood there, in silence, a little dazed. Not surprised, but still a little shaken by the sudden realization of what they had become.

No other words were spoken after that. As per his new habit in those situations, Lawrence had just grabbed his jacket and left.

Once outside, he was left to consider his options. Usually, he would just head straight for Adam’s and stay there for a few hours, only to come back home once he felt more level-headed, and felt confident that Alison had also calmed down. But he knew Adam had worked all night again, and was most likely sleeping. He risked a text message, thinking that, if the younger man was sleeping, a text message wouldn’t wake him up. He could reply later.

_Are you awake?_

He slipped his left hand into his pocket, the other still cradling his cane, and he started walking a little aimlessly. He figured he could find a café and sit down, read the newspapers. Or maybe he could just walk around in the cold air, breathe it all in until his skin started turning red and feeling raw. Maybe the sensation would snap him out of the heart-racing anger he was feeling, or numb the overwhelming, suffocating feeling that everything was about to crash around him. But with his foot and cane, he knew he couldn’t walk for too long, so maybe the café idea was best after all.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. _What’s up?_ he read on the screen. So Adam was not sleeping after all. At 11am on a Saturday morning, after working until 6 am, that was surprising. Sleeping during the day apparently helped him rest better, but it seemed it wasn’t a fool proof solution.

_Fight with Alison,_ he texted back, and thought about sending another to add that it wasn’t a big deal, that he should go back to sleep, but Adam beat him to it.

_Come on over._

And so Lawrence did. When Adam opened the door for him, his hair was disheveled, and he was only wearing a t-shirt and his boxer shorts. The sight made Lawrence smile for a brief instant. Adam closed the door behind him, and they stood in silence in the entrance for a little while.

Eventually, Lawrence said, “We just talked about divorce.” And that was enough. Adam nodded, and slipped his arms around Lawrence’s waist, resting his forehead against the crease of his neck, while Lawrence wrapped his arms around his shoulders, his cane dangling awkwardly from one of his hands. With their height difference, Adam couldn’t quite hold him like he would when they were lying down, or when Lawrence had had his breakdown in the younger man’s bathroom, but this was the kind of comfort that he needed regardless. In the past few weeks, especially after said breakdown, they had started touching more, sometimes hugging, or other times just wrapping an arm around the other’s shoulders. It felt good, Lawrence hadn’t been able to be so close to someone without it being sexual in a long time. Adam was becoming the one person he could be truly vulnerable with, without fearing any judgement.

They stayed like this for a moment, just holding each other in the middle of his entrance, before Adam asked him if he wanted to go lie down. He did.

Lawrence took off a few superfluous layers of clothing and left them on the chair in the corner of Adam’s room. He took off his shoes, and then lay down next to Adam, who offered him his arm to rest his head against, while wrapping his other arm around his shoulders. A hand found its way through his blonde locks, and in that moment, he felt content. Like nothing else in the world mattered. Not Alison or his marriage, not work, not his anxieties as a dad, not Jigsaw. It was just about him, and the fingers fondling his hair, sending some shivers down his spine, the kind that felt good, and safe. Instinctively, he stretched the palm of his hand against Adam’s back and stroked it softly, which also had the effect of bringing Adam’s chest closer to his.

“Does that… feel ok?” Adam asked softly.

“Yes,” Lawrence sighed, unconsciously nuzzling Adam’s neck. “It feels good.”

“Good… good.”

And so Adam kept stroking his hair, and they both dozed off a little, until Lawrence looked at the time, two hours later, and figured he should make his way back home. Not that he particularly wanted to go. He found it difficult to leave Adam’s embrace, as if the air around suddenly felt very, very cold without it. But he brushed it off and instead put on his shoes, before grabbing his coat and limping a little towards the door. Adam followed him to it and opened the door for him. On his way out, Lawrence turned around and smiled.

“Thank you, Adam.”

“Anytime.”

Lawrence laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing a little, before leaning in and swiftly kissing his forehead.

And then, just like that, he was gone, and Adam found himself brushing his fingers against his forehead, looking a little dazed, before he finally remembered to close the door.

oOoOo

The house was eerily quiet when Lawrence walked in. He remembered that Diana had a play date at a friend’s house. Sometime before their big fight, Alison had mentioned she had to drive her there before going to the store. He could sense no detectable sign of life – no sound, no movement. It all felt so… empty. He thought maybe Alison had needed some air as well, had not returned from dropping Diana off at her friend’s house, and was roaming the streets of the city until she ran out of excuses.

He jumped at the sight of her sitting at the kitchen table, a cold-looking cup of tea sitting in front of her. A magazine was laying open on the table near her, but she was not paying it any attention, instead distractedly pulling on the string of the tea bag. She raised an eye when he came into her line of sight, before dropping it again to her warmth-less mug. She did not seem angry, irritated, nor tense. She looked tired. Like the weight on her shoulders was growing slowly unbearable.

“Hi,” Lawrence said softly, surprised at seeing her here, when everything had just seemed so still and lifeless.

“Hey,” she replied, almost in a whisper, so much so that he hardly heard it. Soon enough, silence filled in the gap between them again. It felt heavy on his shoulders, almost suffocating. Deafening.

“Is Diana with the Jamesons?”

Alison nodded. He nodded too. He waited a little longer, standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorframe, before starting to move towards his office. He thought the silence would be more comfortable there.

“Larry?”

He stopped in his tracks and spun around to face her. She was looking back at him this time. He was troubled by her eyes, which had so often been filled with frustration, fury or hate in the past few weeks. He had forgotten what they looked like when she looked calm, pensive… and sad. Her voice was shaky, with the kind of controlled emotion he hadn’t witnessed in a while.

“Yes?” he tried, any tension or frustration he may have carried with him in the past few hours dissipating, giving way to a cautious, more tactful tone.

Alison remained silent for a few more seconds, as if looking for the words she wanted to say. When she spoke up again, it came with the sound of defeat.

“Larry… This isn’t going to work, is it?” She glanced at him expectantly, but continued when she was met with hesitation. “I mean us. This marriage. I thought we could make it work, I thought that if we tried, really tried, if we used what happened as a reminder that whatever pitched us against each other before didn’t matter… that it would work. But that was naïve, wasn’t it? I mean… it’s not working, is it?”

Lawrence felt his shoulders slump oh-so-slightly and he stared at the floor for a while, needing to gather some strength before looking his wife in the eye once more.

“Is it?” Alison insisted. Her voice sounded like a plea. She _was_ tired. And so was he. He was so tired, and tired of feeling that way.

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not working.”

Alison nodded slowly. She didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look relieved. Didn’t look angry, didn’t even look frustrated. It was just… what it was.

They stayed like this. Him standing by the door, her sitting at the table, pulling at the string of her tea bag. Silent. Letting the realization sink in, second by second.

The deafeningly silent end of an era.


	9. Chapter 9

Adam was spending Christmas at his sister’s. And with Tommy, to his dismay. It wasn’t for lack of trying to get out of it: he had tried the “I prefer being alone” card, the “Christmas is just another stupid holiday” card, the “To me, it’s just a regular day, but with more damn fairy lights and dumb music everywhere I go” card. Nothing had worked.

He wasn’t lying, though. On a typical year, if he wasn’t tailing someone who couldn’t keep it in their pants for just one damn family holiday, he would spend it watching TV and smoking, with no one to nag him about how it’s bad for him. And he didn’t really mind that, because Christmas was just one big capitalistic scam dressed as a spiritual necessity. Ice cream cake and a cigarette was all he really needed to be happy on Christmas.

But Amy was a stubborn motherfucker and once she had decided that it was unacceptable he spent Christmas alone after everything he had been through, it was a done deal. He was scheduled to work on the night of the 25th, as would be expected of the highly essential workforce he represented, cleaning other people’s poop off toilet seats – and floors, and walls, and sinks… people just never ran out of ways to amaze him with their inability to poop in their designated spot – but she was not going to let him sleep anywhere but at her apartment on the 24th. (Not that he would sleep much, though, what with his sleep schedule being completely turned on its head. He would probably fall asleep at five in the morning.)

So that is how he had found himself listening to various covers of cheesy Christmas songs by wannabe big shot singers, drinking egg nog, and nodding at Tommy’s uninteresting conversation. The egg nog was bomb, though. So there was that.

Lawrence was spending Christmas with his wife and daughter, maybe the last one they would spend all three of them together. The divorce paperwork had been started a few days earlier, and custody negotiations would soon be under way. After tippy toeing around the inevitable for a few weeks, it had finally come to that. The road would be a rocky one, apparently, and it might get ugly, but for one day, they could pretend that everything was fine, and they were still one happy family, for Diana’s sake.

Adam couldn’t help but think about him throughout the evening, wondering how he was doing, if Alison and he were playing nice.

He had been thinking about Lawrence a lot lately. The latter had been coming over to his place basically every day in the past weeks. Sometimes, they would talk. Other times, they would watch TV. And other times, they would just hold each other in bed.

No matter how he said that one, it never quite sounded right. Never quite… normal. Not exactly the kind of thing that two “bros” would do when spending time together. (Although, the thought of Lawrence as a “bro” was laughable in itself.) It had just come to be so… naturally. When Lawrence came to his place, distraught over his crumbling marriage, or sometimes over the nightmares he periodically relapsed into, it had become instinct for Adam to wrap his arms around his torso and caress his hair – he’d come to realize that Lawrence found it particularly soothing. And when it was Adam who looked like a ghost after two days without sleep, for no good reason other than an obsessive spiral of thoughts triggered by the faintest of sounds or memory flashes, Lawrence would place his hand at the back of his head, slowly guiding it to find the crease of his neck, while his hand snaked its way around his waist.

And it felt good. To be held, to be close to someone. He’d find himself gripping the back of Lawrence’s shirt, as if to stop the embrace from ever ending. And when Lawrence was in his arms, he could sometimes feel the older man’s nose brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, tickling him at the base of his scalp. When it wasn’t Lawrence’s nose, it was his lips. Not kissing him, it wasn’t like that… But sometimes, he felt those  lips casually brushing against his skin in undefined motions, travelling up to his ear, and then back down to the nape of his shoulder. And with the motion, he could feel the warmth of Lawrence’s breath against his skin and…

He wasn’t proud to admit it, but more than once, he had found himself aroused by it. He knew it wasn’t meant to be sexual, and that’s not what he was looking for when he took the older man in his arms either, but sometimes, he just got a little wrapped up in the intimacy of the moment, and he ended up having to twist his body in uncomfortable angles to avoid exposing his… embarrassing condition. He figured he had just not been intimate with anyone in a while, and that had to take a toll on his hormones, or whatever it was, redirecting blood in the wrong places at the wrong times.

Tommy brought him back to reality by waving his glass of eggnog a little too vividly in front of him, spilling a few drops on his knees. He was explaining to him some car stuff. Because as another representative of the male gender, he must care about cars, of course. It was so boring, Adam found himself praying for salvation.

It came under the guise of a text message.

_How is your night?_

He smiled in relief upon seeing Lawrence’s name on his screen. “Sorry Tommy, I gotta take this.” He fled from the couch faster than he thought humanly possible after three glasses of egg nog. Maybe Amy was being careful with the dosage in her recipe. She must have known Adam would use it as solace to keep himself going through the night.

He found refuge in the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed, and replied to Lawrence’s message.

_Boring. You?_

He only had to wait a minute or so before the phone vibrated again.

  _Just tucked Diana in. Alison and I are on a break from playing nice, at least until tomorrow morning._

Adam guessed that Lawrence had retreated to his office or some other safe zone, just like he himself had, to escape the hostilities – or in Adam’s case, tragic dullness.

_Wanna chat?_

He didn’t have to wait more than 30 seconds before the phone rang.

“Hey,” he said upon picking up.

“Hi.” Lawrence sounded relieved. Must have been quite hellish at home, Adam figured.

“So, civil war, huh?”

“Yeah… Well, nothing I didn’t expect. I have had worse.” He sighed. “How’s your Christmas? Boring you say?”

“Tommy.”

“Figured. What is his fascinating topic of choice, today?”

“Cars. And I say ‘cars’ because that’s the only word I caught in the big heap of technical mechanical type words he said. It’s as fascinating as a slug race.”

Adam smiled as he heard Lawrence’s chuckle on the other end of the line. It was soft and contained, but heartfelt. Like he needed that kind of stress relief, and Adam was providing it for him. Whenever Lawrence laughed at his sarcastic comments, Adam felt like he was doing something right in this world.

“When is the divorce going to be finalized anyway?” Adam asked, before silence could settle in.

Lawrence sighed. “I don’t know, at least a few more weeks I think. We have lawyers involved for the negotiations, and there’s all the paperwork. That’s the main reason why it’s so tense with Alison right now. We both agree it’s the right thing to do, but… I mean, when it’s a question of dividing assets and Diana’s custody, it gets messy.”

“Yeah, I can imagine…” Adam wasn’t sure what to say, but in times like this, he supposed listening was the best thing he could do.

“Anyway, I’ll be looking for a new place after the holidays. I am hoping to find a place closer to the hospital. I don’t need as much space as we have right now anyway. Alison will be looking for a new place too.”

Neither of them wanted to stay in the house where Alison and Diana had been held hostage at gun point for a whole night. Adam understood that.

“Well, I hope you find what you need.”

“Thanks.”

For a while, they said nothing. Adam could hear Lawrence’s breathing, and for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, it soothed him. It felt comforting and intimate, in some way. He wondered if Lawrence felt the same about his own breathing, if that was that reason he was also silent.

Eventually, one of them had to break the silence. “Anyway,” Lawrence said in a sigh. “I should go. I just wanted to see how you were.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“Merry Christmas, Adam.”

“Yeah, uh, you too. Merry Christmas.”

He could almost hear the smile on Lawrence’s lips, before the click. And in the silence that followed, he could almost still feel the comforting sound of his breathing, of his voice, of his smile. He waited a few more seconds, taking it all in, before hanging up too.

oOoOo

The day after Christmas, Adam was woken up by the phone, vibrating on his nightstand. It was early afternoon, but his brain felt like oatmeal as he tried to grasp where the sound came from. His sleep had been agitated, filled with weird, stressful dreams, as it usually was when he slept at home for the first time after sleeping elsewhere – like at his sister’s, even if just for a night.

“Hello?” he said upon answering, unable to resist a yawn.

He listened to the voice on the other end of the line greeting him, offering him a few formalities. He recognized the voice of Detective Marenger, more than he acknowledged his telling him his name. He processed the words slowly, still emerging from of his restless sleep. But then, the words started making sense, and as they did, they became the closest thing to a bucket of ice cold water being dropped on his head.

_Jigsaw…_

_… Found…_

He was wide awake. The detective asked him if he had any questions. Adam couldn’t think of anything he could muster. He said no. The detective offered him a few more formalities, maybe some instructions or next steps, Adam wasn’t too sure. All he heard was the click, when the detective hung up.

They had found Jigsaw. John Kramer.

Dead.

The cancer. He hadn’t been receiving proper care in a little while.

He was gone.

He had been found in a little apartment in a remote part of town. The police had traced the place back to him or something, he wasn’t sure of the details. They had shown up, but he had been dead for two days already.

He was gone.

Adam stayed in bed, awake, but unable to move. He heard his phone vibrate somewhere on the bed, where he had left it. Probably Lawrence. Texting him, then calling him. But he couldn’t find it in him to move, answer, talk. He let it ring, and he stared at the ceiling mindlessly.

This should make him happy. The source of his nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety… it was gone. He should have felt relieved. He should have felt… something. But he felt numb. Like it was too much to process, and his brain just turned off, waiting for the storm to pass.

Eventually, the phone stopped ringing. Adam still did not move. He watched a spider crawl from one corner of his ceiling to the next, lay its trap, then hide in a crack in the wall. It was waiting for its prey, slowly, patiently.

Adam wondered if flies knew that they were hunted, that they were in danger, before they actually found themselves stuck in their predator’s trap and it was too late. Do they live in fear? Or do they live in bliss, unknowing of what may await them at any moment? Do flies feel fear at all, in the face of death? Do they fight for their right to live? Or do they patiently await their fate, in the same fashion as their predator waiting for them to meet it?

When he heard a knock on his door, he knew it was Lawrence. He felt so tired, so numb, he didn’t want to move. He considered waiting it out, letting him knock until he grew tired and left, but he knew it was pointless. Lawrence knew he was at home, he would pound on the door until he answered, even if it took hours.

After a few tries, he managed to haul himself out of bed and dragged his feet all the way to the door. When he opened it, he was met with the concerned look on Lawrence’s face. Concerned, but also a little distraught. As if the news hadn’t quite been digested on his end either. And it probably wasn’t.

Neither of them said anything, just looked at each other and understood. For a moment, Lawrence seemed to be weighing different words in his mind, but nothing seemed appropriate. After a while, he settled for just stepping inside and wrapping his arms around Adam. The latter instinctively let his hands rest on the other man’s back, and buried his face in his shoulder.

He didn’t notice the tears streaming out of his eyes until he felt the wetness on Lawrence’s jacket back against his face. If the older man noticed, he said nothing of it.

They stood like this for what felt like forever. Like time was suspended. Because neither of them could bring themselves to feel relieved, happy, or safe. They were shaken, uncertain how to feel, how to act, how to face life without fear after feeling it for so long, and only the other’s embrace could get them to find the balance they had been struggling to find since the rug had been slipped from under their feet. Even though the floor beneath the metaphorical rug was much more stable, much less slippery, and they were expected to stand so much straighter now thanks to it, they needed to hold on to each other, for balance, until everything stopped shaking around them.

Just one more minute. Just one more.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The little box was sitting innocently, teasingly, on top of his desk, in his office. He could hear the sound of hurried footsteps on the other side of his closed door. Nurses, orderlies, some doctors, scrambling around to get from patient to patient. The days leading up to New Year’s were always busy in the hospital: people had a propensity for stupidity during the Holidays. Lawrence hardly heard the bustling activity going on out there, however, so focused as he was on the little box, clumsily wrapped in red paper. The proportions of tape to paper were ridiculous, and the paper had torn on the corners. But the outside appearance did nothing to alter his awe, nor did it stop the weird fluttering feeling in his stomach.

When he had dropped by Adam’s apartment before work this morning, to check in on him since the weird day after Christmas they had both had, the younger man had given it to him. Said it was nothing big, just something he had gotten him a little while back, had almost forgotten about it. Just something he had seen, that had reminded him of Lawrence, not a big deal. He had asked him not to open it in front of him, it was too weird. So Lawrence had taken it with him to work.

All he could think was, Adam had gotten him a gift. The younger man had said something about not being able to ever return what Lawrence had done to help with his debts, not for a long time at least, and if the older man dared get him a gift in return, he would get significantly hurt in some vague, unclarified fashion. It had made Lawrence smile. He had promised to open it once he got to work.

And there he was, looking at it, feeling like only ten-year-old him could feel about a gift. He almost feared that opening it would break the magic of wondering what his friend, who didn’t have to get him anything but had decided to anyway, had found for him. It was the ten-year-old in him that eventually reached for one of the ripped corners, to pull on the protruding paper.

Alison and he had always been the kind of people to open gift wrap slowly, carefully, trying not to rip it. It infuriated Diana, which only made him want to do it more when he was with her, so he could see her flailing little fists. He didn’t know why he found ripping paper so distressing, why he needed to maintain order all the way into Christmas gift unwrapping, but he just did. Most of the time, at least. However, seeing the tragedy that was Adam’s wrapping skills, it seemed pointless to carefully unwrap paper that was already torn. And so, in just a few pulls and tears, the paper was falling in the trash basket next to his desk, and he was holding a carton box, black and unidentified. It was taller than it was large, and when he shook it, he felt what must be metal inside, but still fairly light.

He slipped open the lid on top, and chuckled when he looked inside.

One time, when Adam and he were just sitting on Adam’s couch, with the TV playing softly in the background, Lawrence had been ranting about how it was 8 in the morning and he was already having a pretty shitty day. He had woken up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, had not been able to go back to sleep. He had stubbed his toe on a chair, picked a fight with Alison and then broken his travel coffee mug, the one he usually took to work with him. Adam had given him his usual “Man, that sucks” and that had been all Lawrence had needed to hear. He didn’t think Adam had paid much attention to the details of his story, wouldn’t have expected him to.

But there he was, holding a brand new travel mug. Nothing fancy, a little on the cheaper side, but perfectly functional. He had mentioned it in passing, once, but Adam had listened. He couldn’t quite explain why the thought made him feel so warm. Adam was a good friend. He cared. And in the midst of everything they had been through, that felt good. To know that someone cared.

Lawrence certainly didn’t want to sound ungrateful, he knew people around him cared. He had been raised by parents who cared about his success, who wanted him to make a good life for himself; he knew that was why they had put so much pressure on him and his brother, and why they had found it so difficult to accept his brother’s affection for travelling and picking up odd jobs abroad. They wanted their two boys to be safe and stable, before they were too old to take care of them themselves. Now that his mother was gone and that his dad was losing his grip on reality, Lawrence wished he had been more grateful while he still could. He had always been the good son, the polite one, the successful one, but he wished he hadn’t been secretly irritated at his parents for so long for making him feel like nothing he did was ever quite good enough. They just wanted him to keep climbing, keep pushing himself.

His brother cared too. He had never had any serious conflicts with Garrett, they always got along alright, kept in touch once in a while, on birthdays and holidays. He knew that his brother sometimes felt like the black sheep of the family, like his parents were not as proud of him as they were of Lawrence, but both of them were now old enough to know that it never was quite that simple. Gary was now a pretty successful teacher in Japan. He had met a woman he loved, they now had a kid. If anything, even if he was making less money than Lawrence, he at least had the marriage thing figured out a lot better. They didn’t talk on the phone that often, but it was clear he loved that woman, even after seven years. Lawrence envied him for that part a little, even though he was glad that his brother had found happiness somewhere in this world.

Even Alison cared, he knew that. They fought a lot, their marriage was no longer working. At times, they hated each other. But neither of them wanted the other to suffer. He was sure that, once they were apart and this whole custody thing was figured out and settled, the toxicity of their relation would fade, and they could be civil again. He could see himself being happy about Alison finding love in someone else, down the road, and he thought that, with time, Alison might feel the same about his own happiness too.

But Adam caring made him feel what he hadn’t felt about anyone in a long time. If ever. He felt like there was someone there for him, willing to listen, really listen, in a way that none of his friends over the years were ever really able to do. He couldn’t blame them, he hadn’t been a stellar friend either. His friendships had always been very utilitarian. Classmates, colleagues, with whom he never kept in touch after they moved on to new cities, new jobs, new environments. He could not remember the last time he had a friend he didn’t have to pretend with, with whom he could really let himself crumble and fall, without it mattering in the long run. No matter what was said or done, Adam would still be there the next day, judgement free.

He knew that Adam sometimes felt like he didn’t deserve Lawrence’s attention or help, and thought that Lawrence was being too kind to him. The younger man didn’t realize how much his simple presence helped him too. His presence. His listening ear. His touch.

Lawrence wasn’t oblivious. He knew that his and Adam’s physical contacts had grown increasingly intimate, and he couldn’t deny the effect they had been having on him. He couldn’ t ignore the shivers travelling down his spine when Adam’s fingers grazed his back, even if innocently, over his shirt. Those fingers stroking his hair, which initially just soothed him, were starting to make him feel tingly in his stomach, and sometimes in other areas he did not think should ever be stimulated in such circumstances. It made him want to grab Adam’s shirt, hold him closer, touch him more, like he craved it all of a sudden. More than once, he had surprised himself grazing his lips over the surface of Adam’s skin, unconsciously, across his neck and ear lobe, and whenever he finally realized what he was doing, he would awkwardly stop, and hope Adam hadn’t noticed.

He knew this wasn’t _just_ friendship. This was different from what he had had with any friend before. But this was also drastically different from what he had felt with Alison, or Carla. And maybe that was the whole point, maybe his body was telling him something, waiting for him to put his finger on it.

But he was too afraid of what this could mean, what this could change. And so he brushed the thought away, as he put down the mug on his desk and looked at it with a shaky smile.

Before long, he heard his name called to an examination room, evidently for a new patient, and the dizzying cycle of work simply took over for the rest of his day.

oOoOo

Lawrence spent New Year’s with his family again. It was part of what Alison and he had agreed to do, for Diana, before everything changed. Throughout the night, they stayed civil, and even had a decently good time all three of them together.

Adam spent the festivities with a friend. Dylan, if Lawrence remembered the name correctly. They were going out for drinks, as young men in their twenties should – although, the fact that they were both on the wrong side of their twenties meant that the hangover the next day would be hell.

And it was. Lawrence dropped by Adam’s apartment the day after, in the early afternoon, and found the younger man sickeningly pale, with his head in the toilet. He hardly made it to the door to open it for him when he knocked, and was back at his post right after. Lawrence served him water, aspirins and snacks, as the time elapsed and the nausea eventually turned into hesitant hunger and exhaustion. He helped him back to bed and left him to sleep a few more hours before his night shift.

And life went on with the new year. As January went by, Lawrence started looking for apartments, and so did Alison. Neither of them wanted to stay in the house where all of this had happened. They both needed a fresh start.

Adam tagged along on a few of Lawrence’s apartment hunts, because he claimed he had nothing better to do and could serve as moral support “or whatever.” Lawrence didn’t mind the company, even though Adam’s opinion on the different places he looked at was rarely helpful.

“Dude, this shower is so huge. You could have a gang bang in here.”

“Man, this place is fancy as fuck. Even the fridge looks like it drinks tea with milk in it.”

“You’re telling me that a wall of naked bricks inside this apartment is considered ‘fashionable’ and ‘edgy,’ but when my wallpaper tears off to expose the wall behind it, it’s ‘distasteful’?”

Regardless, Lawrence would take Adam for coffee afterwards, ask him for his thoughts, because that meant he didn’t have to go home right away, and that was good enough of a reason to listen to more of Adam’s jabs at his rich lifestyle.

“You know, where I come from, if every person in your house had their own bedroom, you were doing pretty damn well for yourself. But now you’re telling me you need three bedrooms just for yourself? And that’s your definition of ‘downsizing’?”

Well, one of the bedrooms was for Diana, for the weekends when he had her, and the third room would be his office. The overall surface of the apartments he had visited was much smaller than the house Alison and he had shared for the past ten years. But to Adam’s eyes, it was still superfluously big.

 A few years ago, Lawrence would have shrugged it off as the result of him working hard to get to where he is. To an extent, it was true, becoming a doctor was a lot of hard work and discipline. But he was also privileged enough to have had parents who could afford to pay for medical school, and who raised him so that he never lacked anything he needed to succeed. He wished he hadn’t been blind to his own privilege for so long. When he sat in front of Adam, who may not be as disciplined as he was, but certainly did not deserve to be raised in near poverty and live in such a decrepit apartment at 27 years old, he could no longer pretend that any of this was fair.

“Why do rich people need windows so big anyway? You’re like _asking_ for people to get paid to watch you. It’s a stalker’s wet dream.”

Sometimes, Adam made little jokes in passing about his past line of work. Lawrence would smile, and let it go, knowing that Adam didn’t really want to talk about it beyond the superficial layer of his sarcastic comments. The younger man knew Lawrence would be all ears if he decided to open up about it anytime, so there was no need to push it.

When Lawrence went back home afterwards, he wasn’t anywhere closer to deciding which place he wanted, but he did feel a lot better than he did in the morning, waking up from a restless dream. For a little while, he could think about Adam’s sarcastic smile and genuine eye glimpse, instead of the dreams he would have once he fell asleep.

oOoOo

It was Lawrence’s turn to tuck Diana in tonight. He made sure to stop working and leave his office at exactly her bedtime, so that Alison wouldn’t jump in and do it for him. He enjoyed every minute he could spend with his daughter, whom he didn’t get to see as often, since he had gone back to work.

He inspected her room for any sign of bad men hiding in the closet or under the bed – this ritual, which used to be about imaginary monsters, had taken a much more serious turn since the incident – and when he was done looking everywhere under her attentive supervision, he sat on the side of her bed, tucked her in all nice and tight in her blankets, and sang her a song his mother used to sing to him when he was young, too young to really understand the world himself.

_Old King Cole was a merry old soul_

_And a merry old soul was he_

_He called for his pipe_

_And he called for his bowl_

_And he called for his fiddlers three_

As much as he had a lot to complain about with his life so far, he had been fortunate enough to have a fairly quiet, uneventful childhood, in a normal, nuclear family. At Diana’s age, he had never had to bear the kind of stress and fear that she had already had to experience too many times. He wished he could, with a simple song from a simpler time, erase all of that from her memory. He would have given up a lot more than just a foot if it meant his daughter could live a happy, worry-free life, and sleep peacefully at night. Even if it meant he never did have a good night of sleep himself ever again.

But life did not work that way. She would be haunted by those memories for years to come, and all he could do was make her feel safe for just a few precious minutes, as he sang her a happy song, smiled at her, made her feel loved. When he saw her starting to doze off, he quietly stood up and started walking towards the door. As he was about to turn off the lights, he heard his daughter’s small voice hesitantly travelling to him.

“Dad?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Are you going to have a new family?”

Lawrence frowned, and glided his way back to his daughter’s side. “What do you mean, honey?”

“Since you won’t be living with us soon, will you be living with another family?”

“Oh, honey...” He felt like he was reliving the conversation they had had months ago, the night before everything had gone downhill for all of them. The eerie resemblance made him squeamish, almost a little nauseous. “Diana, of course not. You and mommy are my family, and you could never be replaced in my heart. You understand that, don’t you?”

She looked up from the plush bunny she was fiddling with, answering him with a look that said she was a little relieved by his words, but still not reassured about the future.

“Here, scooch a little.” He kicked off his shoes, pulled on Diana’s blankets and slipped his legs under them, to sit next to his daughter’s frail body, his back against the wall. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against his rib. “Daddy loves you very, very much, Diana. And so does mommy. We both love you more than you can imagine.”

“Do you still love mommy?”

This wasn’t the first time that they were talking about this. Alison and he had been having talks with her, preparing her for the separation and what to expect. But this was a troubling change, and she worried. He had promised to her once that he would never leave them, and he feared she might take this as a betrayal.

“I will always love mommy in my own way. She and I shared a lot of important moments in our lives, that’s not something you can forget.” He paused a little, looking for the right words. “Mommy and daddy are making each other unhappy these days, that happens sometimes in marriages. When that happens, sometimes moms and dads need to stop living together. But that never changes how they feel about their child, you see? We love you to the moon and back, and that will never change.”

Diana nodded a little, snuggling into his side.

 “Just because we won’t be living with each other all the time doesn’t mean that you and I won’t see each other. You’ll be spending some weekends with me, and we’ll speak on the phone all the time. We’ll spend quality time together, just like you’ll be spending time with mommy as well.”

He rubbed her arm with the hand that was on her shoulder, and she smiled a little. “I love you, honey,” he added one more time for good measure.

“I love you too, daddy.”

She seemed a little more at ease, but didn’t look like she wanted to be left alone just yet. He knew they weren’t supposed to stay with her too long, they had to get her used to being on her own in her room at night, but just for this time, he thought staying just a little longer wouldn’t matter. 

“Would you like me to read you a story?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Alright, let’s choose a book.”


	11. Chapter 11

The late January wind was swiftly blaring outside, sending chills down Adam’s spine at the thought of going back out there in the cold later. Tonight was his night off, and Dylan had instructed him to come out for a beer. Which, in Dylan speak, meant at least six beers. But between a night spent alone at home, staring at the ceiling until morning because his sleep cycle was all weird now, or spending the night drunk with Dylan, the choice was fairly easy to make.

Sure, Dylan wasn’t the best conversationalist out there. When Adam had told him the executive summary of his experience in the bathroom, he had earned himself a simple, “Man, this is nuts.” Which wasn’t an incorrect assessment of the situation, to be fair. The news about Jigsaw’s death had warranted about the same reaction. And that was pretty much the only times they had talked about it. Adam wasn’t spending time with him for his words of wisdom anyway. Nights with Dylan were spent sharing superficial chats and drinking themselves senseless. And that was exactly what he needed.

On that particular night, Dylan’s topic of choice was women. As most other nights, in reality. He was telling Adam about the perfection of the ass that belonged to the last “lucky lady” he had slept with. Adam laughed, nodded, contributed a few sarcastic comments here and there, and drank. He was starting to feel way past the point of tipsiness when Dylan threw him a much more serious look than what Adam was used to at this point in the night.

“Yo, real talk,” he said, which warned Adam that this was going to be anything but a real talk. “Have you used the pity card yet?”

Adam frowned and gave him a confused look. “What?”

“The pity card! Dude, with what’s happened to you, you’re sitting on a mine gold. You tell girls what happened to you, they feel sorry for you, you draw a few tears, they want to protect you against the evils of this world, and that’s when you make your move! Don’t tell me you’ve never tried!”

No, Adam hadn’t. In fact, anonymous hook ups had been the last thing on his mind since the whole thing. In hindsight, he wondered why. Those nights when he couldn’t sleep, when the dark felt suffocating and the prospect of falling asleep made him panic, he wouldn’t have minded the company, even if meaningless and emotion free. Maybe a few orgasms here or there would have done a better job than the sleeping pills he sometimes popped in the morning, after a night at work.

Or maybe it wouldn’t have helped at all. It hardly mattered now anyway.

The thought of getting laid tonight didn’t sound too bad, if he was to be honest, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to use what had happened to him to get girls. The last thing he wanted to do in those nights of drinking was to think about Jigsaw, about the bathroom, never mind talking about it.

But when faced with his silence, Dylan apparently took it upon himself to be his wingman, and get him laid. He went to a couple of pretty girls – at least, Adam thought they were pretty, but after six beers, he wasn’t completely sure – and he told them about his friend with the dark past. The two girls must have been just as smashed, because the pity card worked wonders. All four of them were sitting at a table together in no time, and the girls’ hands kept grabbing his in what must have been compassionate gestures. They drank his words like it was the secret to immortality, even though he quickly moved away from the topic that had brought them to him in the first place.

After what must have been an hour, maybe two, it seemed pretty clear who was bringing who home. One of the girls had started gravitating around Dylan, while the other still looked at him intently, her hand still flirtatiously laid over his.

He went to her place. It was small, unimpressive, but cleaner than his. It would do.

One step inside and he was pushed against the barely closed door and her lips were on his. He didn’t need more of an invitation to ride his hands up from her hips to her breasts, and kissing back with as much intensity as he could muster. She shivered when he slipped a hand under her shirt, which he took as encouragement to slip his other hand in too. He retrieved them only to slide her jacket off her shoulders, and then returned to the hem of her shirt, clumsily sliding it over her head, until it was on the floor, in an undefined heap on top of the jacket.

She pushed his jacket off his body as well, and then started pulling him down the hallway, in all likelihood towards her bedroom, all the while without separating her lips from his. Blindly stumbling his way through the narrow space with her clumsy guidance, he was almost surprised when she toppled down onto the bed, and pulled him to fall on top of her. She grabbed the lower part of his t-shirt and pulled up until it was off. She probably threw it somewhere on the floor, he couldn’t quite tell. He was too busy kissing her neck, her chest, her breasts, which he uncovered by unhooking her bra. She made these high-pitched noises when he rolled his tongue over her nipples, and in the blurry haze of his drunken state, it felt hot, very hot.

“Fuck me,” she sighed.

And fuck her he did.

Afterwards, as he lay by her side, awake but lifeless, she offered him a cigarette, which he gladly accepted. And as they smoked and she told him about various things he couldn’t bring himself to really pay attention to, he let his thoughts wander to a time he wouldn’t let himself think of if sober.

He remembered being a teenager. Being overwhelmed with puberty, feelings. Feeling different _. Every teenager feels misunderstood_. That may have been true. He remembered wanting it to be true. Convincing himself that whatever he felt was normal shitty puberty phase thingies. It would pass.

He had always found women attractive. He remembered Molly Bennett, from 3rd grade. She had the most beautiful blonde hair, which reflected the light from the afternoon sun at recess and flew effortlessly in the wind when she ran after the ball she and her friends were playing with. She was the first girl he remembered having a crush on. That was, before she threw her cupcake at him at lunch and told him he had cooties. Then his admiration had turned into vivid hatred, and he would pull her pigtails whenever he had the chance, when the teachers weren’t looking, and he rejoiced in hearing her cry.

But that was a different story.

He had always found women attractive. Molly, Sarah, Patricia, Sam…

And then, there was Ryan. Ryan Kim, from 5th grade. He had semi-long black hair, which hung all the way down to his ears. He was always wearing sporty sunglasses at recess, which Adam had thought looked so cool. He had a smile that made you stop breathing, and made you want to laugh with him. He could run the fastest, and made it look effortless.

It was around the time that his friends started calling anything remotely feminine or even just unpleasant “gay,” making it very clear that this was not something Adam, or anyone, should be. With time, he told himself that what he found intriguing in certain boys – and later, men – was really just him comparing himself to guys he envied, and wanted to look or be like.

He had dated women, slept with women, had liked it. He had even been in love with a woman, once. Like, really in love. She had broken his heart, and it had hurt. So much so, that the only comfort he could find then was the fact that it made him feel normal, like a normal person getting his heart broken, like everyone else. He was normal.

Then, sometimes, a man he had just met would be particularly nice, buy him a drink, smile at him, touch is hand… and he would panic. He usually just left and ran. Sometimes he would throw a few slurs at the other man before he escaped, for good measure. He would feel the pounding of his heart for an hour afterwards, before he regained control over his breathing.

Once, when he was 21 years old, a friend of his girlfriend of the moment, an edgy artist type, had mentioned the term “bisexual,” claiming that we were all a little bisexual, after all. His girlfriend had scoffed, asserting that she was 100% straight, all while wrapping her arms around his neck. He had smiled, kissed her cheek. And that night, he had laid awake in bed until sunrise, thinking about that word.

His cigarette butt smoked feebly in the ashtray on the nightstand, as the girl from the bar started snoring softly, passed out almost mid-sentence. He got up, gathered his belongings, and as he slipped his shoes on his feet, he looked at her still figure in the dark, guiltily. He was feeling a little more sober, and from his standpoint, she did look quite beautiful. Peaceful.

The sex had been good. But he felt empty. Maybe he was getting too old for anonymous hook ups after all.

Or maybe he was trying to fill in a gap that she couldn’t possibly fill.

oOoOo

It was a fairly regular night of early February, another one of Adam’s nights off, and Lawrence had volunteered to keep him company for a while, since Adam wasn’t going to sleep until morning. They were watching TV, some silly TV movie on one of the three channels Adam could catch with his Roman-era antique.

They were both sitting next to each other, at a safe distance from one another. Adam had noticed Lawrence being much less touchy feely lately. The older man had developed a tendency in the past few weeks to keep his distance a little bit more. He wasn’t cold, though. Adam could still feel the warmth of his smile and the genuine interest in his eyes when he listened to him. He was still very present, they still spoke on the phone regularly. He just didn’t seem to touch him as much he used to. And when they did hug, he could no longer feel the older man’s nose or lips brushing against his skin.

While their physical contacts had initially been instinctive and raw, spur of the moment situations, it seemed like Lawrence was now becoming more aware of it, and as a result, much more careful. Adam tried not to think too much of it. Their friendship was unaffected, and that’s what he truly cared about. Maybe they were at a point in their healing process where they didn’t need as much physical contact to feel safe.

On TV, the female protagonist was trying to rationalize her stupid decisions to her sassy friend, who would be giving her the time of day any minute now. Adam was only half listening to the conversation, the movie really wasn’t all that interesting. It was just the best thing playing at the moment. As boredom settled into his traits, he started feeling a crick in his neck, most likely a souvenir from his last shift at work. Cleaning floors and toilets was getting hard on his posture. He started rolling his head around his neck, feeling a series of tiny cracking sounds resonating in his neck as he did so. The gesture however uncovered a tension in his shoulder, which he had been feeling for a few days now. He really was getting old, it seemed. Manning a mop was getting too strenuous for his poor aging body.

“Is your shoulder hurting?” Lawrence asked, looking at him intently, brows slightly furrowed.

“Nah, man,” Adam said dismissively. He didn’t want Lawrence to worry about a silly tense shoulder. “Just a little stiff from work.”

He rolled his shoulder in its socket discreetly, staring at the TV, hoping to will Lawrence to do the same. But the older man’s eyes remained glued to him.

“Has it been hurting a lot lately?”

“Lawrence, it’s nothing. I have bad posture, it’s no big deal. It’s nothing to do with the wound.”

His gunshot wound had healed pretty well. The doctor who had examined him at his latest follow-up appointment had seemed pretty satisfied with it, had told him he was lucky. Shoulder wounds could get a lot trickier, especially when not treated right away. Adam didn’t consider himself a very lucky person in general, but he guessed that this wasn’t too bad of a situation for his luck to finally kick in. His shoulder hurt sometimes when he slept on it, but otherwise, it was fairly back to normal. Although, he was still advised to take it easy on the heavy lifting of any kind.

Regardless, Lawrence maintained his suspicious look, which was also mixed with concern.  After a while, he gestured for him to get closer.

“Come here,” he said, repositioning himself to sit somewhat sideways on the couch. He gestured for Adam to turn around. Adam looked at him with confusion.

“What?”

“Turn around, and get closer.”

“B – why?”

“Turn around, I’ll massage your shoulder.”

“What?”

Lawrence sighed. “It’s not that complex of a request, Adam.”

Adam glared. “What I am saying is, you don’t have to do that. It’s cool. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Adam, you’ve been rolling your shoulder all night.” Adam frowned, he hadn’t realized he had been doing it for that long. Lawrence continued, “Just turn around and let me ease the tension.”

Adam looked at him with hesitation, pondering whether to listen or to stick to his natural stubborn self.

Lawrence sighed once more. “I’m a doctor, Adam. Will you just trust me?”

Adam pondered for a few more seconds, before giving in. He turned sideways on the couch, so that his back faced Lawrence, and he let the older man pull him a little closer. He felt his palms spread on his back and rub its surface through his shirt, before the expert fingers started kneading the flesh and muscles of his shoulder, all the while carefully working around the scar and damaged area. At first, Adam felt pain. Lawrence pushed his fingers right into the knots in his nerves, and he squinted and tensed at the sensation. But then, soon enough, the pain and discomfort was replaced by the slow relaxation of his muscles, and he felt something akin to light euphoria. His head started feeling heavier, and so did his eyelids. He closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open as the fingers near his neck area made him feel heavenly.

When his shoulder felt completely relaxed, he momentarily felt the fingers leaving his shoulder, and for a second, he felt forsaken, deprived, and he thought of asking Lawrence to continue, regardless of whether he still actually needed it or not, because it felt good, and no one had massaged him before. He didn’t have to. A second later, the hands were moved to his other shoulder, even though it was not in pain, and Adam was not one to point it out.

After his other shoulder, the knowing hands moved to the rest of his back, all the way to his lower back, and when even that was done, they moved to his neck, scalp, and temples. Adam felt so relaxed, loosened, that he thought he might fall into a puddle of shapeless limbs right there and then. He could also feel a certain heat emanating from his entire body, which he couldn’t quite explain. The hands on his body slackened all of his tensions, all the while leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. Adam could feel fire in his cheeks and neck, which he tried to ignore.

Eventually, Lawrence ran out of surface to massage, and when he did, he laid his palms flat on Adam’s back and rubbed it in smooth, pleasant motions.

“Does that feel good?” Lawrence said in a whisper, near his ear. Adam just groaned in response, and he heard the smile form on Lawrence’s lips.

The hands kept at work on his back, soothing him, making him feel closer and closer to slumping into the other man’s chest. But before he could let that happen, he started feeling Lawrence’s hands moving away from his back, adventuring on other areas, like his sides, his stomach, his chest. The unexpected caresses took him by surprise, and he could not help the slight arching of his back as he felt the other man’s hands move up and down his front. Soon, he felt himself being pulled closer to Lawrence, until the latter’s chest was flat against his back. And then his nose was nuzzling his neck, something Adam hadn’t felt in a while, and it was followed by the light brush of his lips, which for the first time were openly kissing his skin, although lightly and delicately.

This felt different. This wasn’t the innocent touch of a friend hugging for comfort. This wasn’t the accidental brush of one’s lips on the other’s skin. This was unsettlingly, disconcertingly non accidental. His heart was racing and his back just kept arching against his will, each time giving the other man a little more access to his exposed neck.

“Lawrence…” he said in a sigh. He had meant it as an altercation, to stop the other man, alert him to the situation slowly slipping out of their control, but instead, it seemed to spark something else entirely in the other man, who also arched his back.  Adam felt Lawrence’s crotch pressing against his lower back. His hardened crotch. And he lost it for a few seconds, playing with the thought that maybe this was ok, it felt good, why not. At this point, they were both clearly aroused, and…

“Lawrence!”

This time, his tone was firm, and the doctor’s hands paused in their tracks. They were both breathing heavily, but neither dared moving. Lawrence’s hands were spread flat on Adam’s front, one palm on his chest, the other on his stomach. His lips were hovering above the skin of his neck, and Adam could feel the hot air of his breath. Adam didn’t know what to say or do. He was not sure he wanted it to stop, he just felt like he had to pause it, before it was too far gone. He didn’t want them to do something irrational, and then regret it later.

But then, as he ransacked his brain for the right words to use, the other man’s lips moved from their position of the past God-knows-how-many minutes, and were raised all the way to his ear.

“Do you want me to stop?”

The question was asked gently and genuinely. Lawrence would stop, if Adam wanted him to. And just like that, Adam was now faced with the responsibility of choosing, of making that decision for them, because apparently, Lawrence was already too far gone. Whatever hesitation the older man had had, and which had kept him at bay for the past couple of weeks, had now flown out the window, and those hands pressing Adam’s whole body tight against the doctor’s chest were all ready to go. It was up to Adam now.

Did he want Lawrence to stop?

“No,” he whispered feebly, almost in defeat, and instantly, the hands were back at work, and those lips were brushing against his ear, trapping his ear lobe in-between them, and sending shivers down his spine. Lawrence’s right hand slipped under his shirt and, with the tip of his fingers, started tracing patterns on his stomach. Adam could not help the soft moan that escaped his lips at the sensation, and it was quickly followed by a louder gasp when the hand boldly slipped into his boxer shorts.

The rest became a bit of a blur. Lawrence was touching him, grabbing him, stroking him, while Adam reached behind him, over his shoulder, to grip at Lawrence’s hair. The older man nibbled at his ear, which only accentuated the sensations he was already getting, in spikes, through his spine, his trembling muscles, and especially his stomach.

The orgasm came abruptly, gripped at his guts, and he climaxed with a long dragged-out moan, before he slumped against Lawrence’s chest, no strength left in his limbs. Lawrence kissed his temple and circled his loosened frame with his arms, holding him for longer than Adam cared to measure. He even felt himself dozing off against the other man’s body, despite having slept all day already. He felt at peace and unwound, he was comfortable in Lawrence’s arms, and he didn’t want to think about what this all meant for the two of them, for when Lawrence had to leave and he was left alone with his thoughts.

Time was suspended. After a while, maybe an hour – maybe less, maybe more – Lawrence whispered in his ear that he should go. Adam nodded absent-mindedly as he straightened himself out and let the other man slip from under him on the couch.

Lawrence gathered his things in silence, under Adam’s tired supervision. When he was ready to go, Adam accompanied him to the door, where they stood awkwardly for a moment. Adam thought the other man would just leave without another word, neither of them really knew what to say. But instead of stepping outside and walking down the hallway, Lawrence stepped forward, towards Adam, slowly, hesitantly. He raised a hand to Adam’s face, and gently stroked his cheek with his thumb. Adam found himself unable to move, paralyzed, as he watched the other man lean forward, get ever so close to his face, until their noses touched. He felt his breath get caught in his throat, as the tip of the other man’s nose brushed against his own in a soft, tender touch.

He shivered when those lips touched his, delicately brushing against his own, almost asking for permission, before pressing with more confidence. Lawrence’s hand moved to his hair, his palm lodging itself against the back of his head, as his lips repeatedly grazed his own.

And then it was over, Lawrence was retreating, smiling at him, wishing him goodnight, and then leaving the way he had come, hours ago.

The tingle in his lips remained long after the door had been closed behind him, and he found himself grazing them with the tips of his fingers, carefully, as if afraid a firm touch would chase the feeling away.

He slept a little that night, in spite of his regular sleeping routine. And he stayed in bed all day the next day, staring at the ceiling, uncertain how to feel about the now faded sensation. About the next time he would see Lawrence.

Around eight at night, he rolled out of bed and started getting ready for work.


	12. Chapter 12

The divorce was finalized on February 13, just one day away from being particularly ironic, Lawrence thought.

Slowly, boxes started filling the empty space in their house, covering the floor as the walls grew naked. In just a couple of weeks, Lawrence would move to the apartment he had signed near the hospital, central but still relatively quiet. Another week later, Alison would be moving into her apartment a little further in the suburbs, closer to her mother. Diana would be living with Alison, and spending every other weekend with Lawrence, as stated in the custody agreement they had both signed after weeks of tense negotiations.

Once all the paperwork was signed, the air between Lawrence and Alison had lightened. Her presence no longer came as a weight on his shoulders, they no longer fought as much, and he even caught Alison smiling at him once. The comparison felt a little sordid, but Lawrence had read somewhere that suicidal individuals grew happier and brighter in the last few days of their life, once their decision to end it was taken. Suddenly, the burden of life no longer felt as cumbersome, when one knew it would soon come to an end. They knew that their pain would not have to be felt for much longer. Could a divorce feel somewhat the same, with the promise of a happier time in their separate lives?

The negotiations and the whole process in general had been difficult on both of them – and on Diana – but now that it was metaphorically set in stone, that they couldn’t change anything to it anymore, the end of the suffocation and toxicity was within sight. They both knew it, they both felt it. And so their last few days together were possibly their happiest together since their honeymoon.

At the moment, he was at work. So was Alison, and Diana was at school. Life ran its course.

He didn’t notice her right away. She was but a figure among so many others, swarming in the corners of his eyes. She got closer, she slowed down as she approached, and after a moment, he raised his head to look at her.

“Hi,” Carla said, shyly. Hesitant.

Lawrence was too startled at first to reply. This was the first time that she had spoken any word to him since the incident. He hadn’t tried talking to her either, he thought it would be best not to. At first, he avoided her to save his marriage. And when even that had flown out the window, it had just seemed inappropriate, like he would be digging into a part of his past he preferred forgetting.

“Hello,” he eventually replied, adorning a polite yet tentative smile.

“I heard about the divorce,” she said, offering him a look filled with genuine compassion. “I’m sorry.” She looked genuine. Lawrence nodded.

“Thank you, Carla.”

He half expected her to nod in return and leave, but she didn’t. Lawrence slightly raised an eyebrow, quizzically, silently inquiring what she wanted to say, or do.

“I…” she tried, but closed her mouth again, unsure. “I just wanted you to know that, if you need someone to talk to, or just company… I’m here. I’d be happy to help.”

Lawrence looked at her with a neutral expression, scanning her face for signs of intentions. He couldn’t quite tell. Maybe she did only mean to be nice, friendly.

“Thank you Carla. That’s very nice of you. But I’m alright.”

Carla did not seem quite satisfied with the answer, but she nodded, smiled, and left. Lawrence watched her walk away, puzzled, and a little perplex. Eventually, as she became a smaller figure among so many others again, he turned back to the papers in his hand and resumed reading.

oOoOo

On Lawrence’s moving day, Adam was there to help. The young man stood there, in the corner of the living room, confused, probably wondering why he was needed when a team of hired professionals were doing all the heavy lifting and putting everything in place.

It was true that Adam wasn’t really needed, Lawrence thought. Even Lawrence himself was feeling rather useless in the midst of all these tall, strong men carrying his furniture and boxes from the truck to the inside of his new home. With his foot and the fact that he still walked around with a cane – may always have to – on top of him not being a young man in his twenties anymore, hiring professionals had been an evident necessity.

He had invited Adam to join the party, more for moral support than actual physical help, he supposed. Alison was spending the day out with Diana, so that she wouldn’t be in the way of the movers or get hurt. Alison would bring her to visit his apartment in a few days, once he was settled in a little bit more. He didn’t want his daughter to witness the move, but he also hadn’t wanted to be alone, on the day where everything was changing, again.

In just a few hours, the movers were done, papers were signed, and then it was just Adam and Lawrence, standing in the eerie stillness of the apartment which had been bustling with noise and movement just a few minutes ago. Boxes were laying around, all over the place, and Lawrence didn’t want to start unpacking just yet. He felt tired, even though he hadn’t been doing much of the heavy lifting. He was emotionally and mentally tired, if not physically.

His share of the glasses, plates and utensils were in a box somewhere. He had carefully identified every one of them, he had a system to make unpacking as easy as possible, but the prospect of looking for the right box still felt daunting.

“Want to order Chinese? I think a saw a place nearby.”

Adam nodded animatedly. He was probably starving. With the weird nocturnal schedule the younger man was following, Lawrence wasn’t sure how many proper meals he really got in a day.

Lawrence found a number and called, ordered a little bit more than they needed, just in case Adam was really in dire need of food in his system. Then he grabbed two beers in his practically empty fridge, and gave one to Adam.

They drank, they ate, they talked. Half mourning the close of an era, half celebrating the future, sprawled on Lawrence’s couch, meticulously placed in the middle of the living room area, in a sea of unopened boxes.

Once they had eaten and Lawrence started feeling just a little on the tipsy side, he let silence comfortably seep in between them. He rested his head on fist, while his elbow rested on the backrest of the couch, and he looked at Adam with a small, feeble smile. Adam, who had been laughing at a joke Lawrence already couldn’t remember, looked back intensely, the smile on his lips slowly fading away, giving way to something else entirely.

They had not really kissed, since the last time, in Adam’s apartment. As if, once Lawrence had left his place, the charm had been broken, midnight had rang and Cinderella had been returned to her rags and chores. Cinderella retained the memories of that one special night, and so did they. They had been feeling… lighter, almost happier, although definitely confused. It showed in their interactions, and in the long heavy silences that they shared, staring at each other, time suspended, as if both were waiting for the other to make a move. Typically, the moment passed and they moved on to another topic of conversation, as if out of fear of tarnishing the magic of what they had shared once.

But on that day, today, as they drank to mark the bittersweet beginning of a new chapter in Lawrence’s life, they didn’t fear supernatural rules. Nothing outside of that expensive, yet simple apartment mattered. Lawrence brushed his palm against Adam’s cheek, and that’s all it took for any hesitation they had to vanish into thin air. They both leaned forward slowly, until their lips met. Lawrence brushed his lips against Adam’s, keeping the touch light and gentle for a while. Adam humored him at first, letting the other man slip his hand through his hair while innocently connecting their mouths, at times hovering more than touching, teasing.

Then, Adam grew tired of the innocent approach and leaned forward, slipping his arm around Lawrence’s waist, and kissed him hard. Lawrence did not object, instead tightening his grip on his hair and shoulder, giving in to the delightful pressure. When Adam only slightly opened his lips, Lawrence jumped at the opportunity to further the kiss. Lawrence didn’t notice that he was pushing Adam backward until the younger man was lying on his back, with his own body flat on top of it.

Lawrence’s lips left Adam’s mouth, but pursued their kisses down his cheeks, chin, throat, neck. Adam seemed to like it, as his breathing caught in his throat, and Lawrence made a mental note that Adam’s neck was a particularly sensitive spot. He kissed, licked, nibbled at the skin until a moan escaped from Adam’s gaping mouth. The sound of it sent electric shocks down Lawrence’s spine, and his warm breath against the reddened skin made the younger man shiver.

When Lawrence raised his head to look down at Adam, the younger man looked surprised, almost a little embarrassed, as if the moan had been unpremeditated. And it most likely was. Lawrence kissed him on his swollen lips once more, before getting up on his feet and pulling on his hand to make him follow. He slowly led the younger man towards the bedroom, which was still mostly unpacked, chaotic, except for the one functional bed placed in the center, waiting for them.

oOoOo

The ceiling stared back at the both of them, as they lay in bed, naked, a thin blanket carelessly strewn across their bodies. Lawrence’s arm was slipped under Adam’s body, wrapped around his shoulders, while the younger man’s head rested against the crane of his neck, his hair occasionally tickling Lawrence’s sensitive skin.

The sensation he felt was indescribable. It felt like the puzzle pieces that had just never seemed to fit before, no matter how hard or desperately he tried… now naturally came together, effortlessly, as if the key had been right there, right under his nose all this time.

_I am gay._

For the first time, Lawrence let the thought form fully and freely in his mind, resonating in his relaxed skull, and it made sense. It did. Just thinking it took a veil off all the answers he had been looking for all this time, turned the lights on in his brain, made everything so clear.

“What are you thinking about?” Adam was twisting his head to look at him. Lawrence looked down and locked eyes with him.

“Just… about all this,” he said, spraying his free hand across Adam’s chest and delicately stroking his skin.

Adam nodded, and laid a hand over Lawrence’s. “Is this your first time? With a man, I mean.”

“Yeah…” Under Adam’s hand, Lawrence’s fingers traced mindless patterns over Adam’s chest. “You?”

“Yeah.”

Lawrence brushed his chin across the top of Adam’s head, rustling his hair a little further. “I guess I never really thought about it… being gay. Although I think a part of me was just trying really hard to block the thought from formulating itself. In a way, nothing ever made sense. _I_ never made sense. Not until now.”

Adam’s hand travelled up Lawrence’s arm in a gentle motion, tender in a way that Lawrence had rarely seen Adam demonstrate. The younger man’s presence made him comfortable, he felt at ease. He opened up a little more.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly raised in a gay-friendly family. It’s not something that was ever discussed in our home, but my parents were very traditional. As most families in the 60s and 70s anyway, I suppose. The expectations were clear: go to college, ideally medical school, get married, start a family. There wasn’t much room for thinking about other life paths, other… desires.”

Adam’s hand continued to stroke Lawrence’s arm, as the younger man joined in the conversation, “The only time we heard the word ‘gay’ in my house, it’s because my dad was yelling at some guy on the TV, or talking shit about someone he knew, who he thought was too girly, too preppy, too whatever.”

Lawrence nodded, showing that he understood. “Did you ever… feel something for a man?”

Adam seemed to ponder the question a little. “In hindsight, I guess I did. I just always told myself that I envied those men for their looks, not that I wanted to get in their pants.”

Lawrence chuckled a little. “Did you know? That you liked men?”

Adam sighed. “I thought women were hot. I think I still do. ‘Gay’ didn’t fit, so I just brushed it off.”

“Do you think you’re bisexual?”

“I guess… I think so.”

Lawrence tightened both arms around Adam, who positioned his hands on the other man’s wrists. He kissed the younger man’s hair, before resting his cheek on top of his head.

Lawrence held him close, until Adam had to get up and leave for work. The bed felt cold afterwards, and Lawrence unpacked a few more blankets before going to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

The breeze made Adam straighten his jacket’s collar to cover his neck. It was still cold, but the sun shone a little brighter, foreshadowing the arrival of spring. Soon enough, layers of clothing would be discarded, the outside world would bustle with activity, and the city would come to life again.

But for now, it was still early March, and Adam groaned as he rubbed his glove-less hands together.

“Aw, come on, suck it up. It’s not that cold.”

Adam threw his sister a glare, which she gracefully ignored as she looked on both sides of the street before crossing. Adam followed her silently, despite his irritation, all the way into the park near Amy’s apartment.

“See anything that inspires you?” she asked, throwing her arms in the air, vaguely pointing at everything that surrounded them, from the naked trees to the fading patches of frost on the grass.

Adam bit his lip and looked down at the camera hanging from his neck. Amy hadn’t told him much about the purpose of this excursion. She had told him to grab his camera and come to her place, and now they were taking a walk in the park. It didn’t take much of a genius to figure out what she was trying to do.

“Amy… I don’t want to do this.”

She abruptly turned around to face him, and he stopped walking just in time before he ran into her chest.

“Too bad,” she said. “That means the next hour or so is gonna suck for you, huh?”

And on this, she turned around again, and started walking. “We’re not going home until you have a reasonable amount of pictures to develop,” she added.

Adam groaned. “And what counts as reasonable, exactly?”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

He swore under his breath. He had whined all the way from her place to here, he was running out of arguments.

He knew Amy meant well. He hadn’t taken a single picture since the incident, she knew it’s something he used to love doing. She wanted to snap him out of whatever was keeping him out of his darkroom, as if the devil was waiting for him there.

What she didn’t seem to realize was that he hadn’t taken artsy pictures in much longer than just the past few months. For years, leading up to a maniac cancer patient tumbling into their lives and upturning everything, he had only taken pictures of strangers for money. Sure, when he had started, for the first few months, he thought it would be a side hustle, something to pay the bills while he tried to make something of his “real” photography. But soon enough, he had slipped into a routine, into a state of apathy where one gig just bled into the next, and he took pictures for himself less and less. Along the way, he couldn’t quite tell when, he had lost hope of making a career of artistic photography. The excitement at taking the perfect picture, the paralyzing feeling of seeing a perfect scene and not having his camera with him, had stopped happening. If catching people cheating on their spouses was the way for him to make money off his only skill, then so be it.

Now that even _that_ had become inconceivable, he didn’t want to think about it anymore. His camera had stayed untouched on a chair in his room ever since, and his darkroom door had remained unopened.

“What about this tree? Doesn’t it look kinda funky?” She pointed at a leaf-less tree, tall, with branches twisting in irregular angles. A few birds were flying above it, sometimes landing on one of its branches, testing it, before taking off again to look for a different post.

“Hmm,” he shrugged. Maybe he would have found it fascinating, years ago. But today it was just a tree.

Amy threw him a look, and he figured he should take a few shots, if he wanted to return to the warmth of her apartment anytime soon. He raised his camera, took a lazy shot, not really bothering to think about the angle, the lighting, the composition, the timing. He took the shot, and threw Amy a look that said, _Are you happy now?_

She raised an eyebrow, studying him for a second or two, before continuing to walk down the path she had taken them on.

They did this for a while. They would walk silently, then she would point at something, he would take a picture of it to make her happy, and then they’d keep going, until she found something else that looked somewhat interesting. After a while, Adam pleaded for a break, and she granted it. They sat on a park bench, and he slipped his fingers into his pockets, trying to bring the life back into them. He couldn’t wait for spring to actually be here.

Amy threw him a look she must have intended as casual, but if there was one thing he had learned to do in the past months, it was recognizing concern when he saw it. “How have you been doing?” she asked, innocently.

“I’m ok,” he said simply, shrugging.

“No, Adam,” she insisted, calm, but giving him the ‘no bullshit’ look. “How have you really been doing?”

Adam raised his eyes from the pigeons roaming the ground in front of them, to lock eyes with her. “I’m ok, Amy, really.” He nodded for emphasis. “I’m better.”

That wasn’t a lie. He was better. Life was still a little fucked up, but he figured that was normal. He didn’t know if he would ever feel completely safe at home. If he would ever stop waking in the middle of the night – or in his case, in the middle of the day – with unexplainable fright. If he would ever stop fearing the dark and the sounds that the night makes. But still, he felt… better. He had been sleeping, even if not always restfully. He’d been eating, even if not always regularly nor healthily.

“How is your sleep?”

“Fine.”

“Do you still need the sleeping pills?”

“Sometimes.”

“You seem thinner.”

“Don’t worry, I am eating.”

“Are you sure?”

“Amy!” he exclaimed, impatient, yet not really mad. He couldn’t muster anger, not right now, nor most of the time these days. He had gotten used to that kind of attention, could even recognize the care and love behind it. “I already have Lawrence supervising my lifestyle, I don’t need you all up in my business as well. I am sleeping, I am eating, I am living.”

She gave him the suspicious look for a little longer, but the reminder that another human was also taking care of him seemed to appease her.

Lawrence and Amy had met a few times, mainly in passing. They didn’t really know each other, but despite never having had a meaningful conversation, they both seemed to have a mutual respect for each other, as the two mother figures in Adam’s life, both making sure that he didn’t let himself die. Adam wasn’t sure he appreciated being babied by his older sister and his older male… friend. But at least, it got Amy off his back sometimes, to know that there was someone else watching over him.

“You’re lucky to have a friend like that,” Amy finally said, after a pause. “Someone who understands.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It’s good that you guys can talk.”

“Yeah, sure. We talk.”

oOoOo

“Fuck!” Adam flailed a little against the cold softness of the satin sheets under him – who still got satin sheets these days, was that really a thing? – and ended up settling one of his hands on the bed post, gripping at it, while his other hand clenched around the sheets.

Lawrence was nibbling at the spot on his neck he had come to learn – quite quickly, actually – was the best way to earn himself the most exquisite vulgarities from Adam’s mouth, as he arched his back and grabbed whatever was nearby to keep himself grounded. Oh, he was a fast learner, that one. Adam didn’t think he could last much longer at that rate.

Another hip thrust, and Adam was out of breath, white light flashing behind his closed eyelids. The moment was crowned with a long, drawn out groan, and quite a mess on his stomach. One last thrust, and Lawrence’s body quivered, before slumping on top of Adam’s.

For a minute, all that could be heard were their jagged breaths, sometimes intercut by quiet chuckling. “Fuck,” Adam said one more time, for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Lawrence replied with a smile, nuzzling Adam’s neck tenderly, right where he was being much less tender a few minutes ago. He kissed the spot softly, then kissed his cheek, before propping himself on his elbows, still not getting off Adam’s body. With the tips of his fingers, he traced the teeth marks that weren’t quite fading away yet. “That might leave a mark,” he said apologetically.

“Cool. I was getting worried the old people where I work would start thinking I am lame. Don’t want a bunch of 80 years old pitying me, now I got proof I am actually getting any.”

Lawrence shook his head disapprovingly, but smiled. He gave Adam one long look, before swiftly kissing his cheek once more and carefully rolling off to the side.

Lawrence had texted him the night before, telling him to drop by in the morning, after his shift. They hadn’t been having their routinely morning meetups as regularly in the last stretch of the divorce proceedings, but since Lawrence had moved into his new apartment, it had become their new hang out spot. Adam thought it was admirable, how Lawrence had endured visiting him in his rotting apartment for so long. Now that they had a better place to meet, Adam didn’t mind the excuse to spend less time at home.

Sometimes, on these mornings spent together, they just chatted over coffee and breakfast. Sometimes, they watched a bit of TV on Lawrence’s fancy expensive screen.

Or other times, like this morning, he’d be greeted at the door by a Lawrence in boxer shorts, still a little disheveled from his sleep. In a matter of seconds, without either of them quite understanding how they had gotten to that point, they were stumbling towards the bedroom, tearing clothes off each other, hands traveling adventurously on the other’s skin.

And once they had climaxed, they would lie in bed in content silence. Sometimes Lawrence would slip his fingers between his, squeezing his hand as they waited for their breathing to recalibrate. Other times, Adam would wrap half of his body around Lawrence’s still form, letting the warmth from the older man’s body loosen the rigidity in his muscles after hours spent mopping floors.

But today, they just lay on their backs, next to each other, shoulders almost touching, and listened to each other’s peaceful breathing in the room darkened by the drawn blinds. They stayed like this for as long as they could, until Lawrence had to start getting ready for work. Adam watched him sit on the edge of the bed, and fiddle with the crutches on the floor near the bed. He had taken off his prosthetic foot earlier, for comfort, under the lustful and impatient supervision of Adam, while sprawled on the bed in his underwear, waiting.

Now, Adam was watching him with a tired, caring expression. Lawrence stood up and, with the help of the crutches, started making his way towards the bathroom, where he would shower, shave, get ready for his day. He turned to Adam on his way out of the room, offering him a content smile. “You can sleep here if you want.” Adam nodded. He had been doing that sometimes, lately. He didn’t always feel like making his way back to his place after this kind of activity.

He pulled the covers over himself, and listened to the distant sounds of Lawrence cleaning up and getting ready. When the older man came back into the room to get dressed, Adam was still awake, but dozing off. He half felt the kiss on his nose, before he heard steps getting farther and farther, and then the front door opened and closed. And then silence.

And he slept, deeply, like he never could in his own apartment.

oOoOo

Adam was still there when Lawrence came back from work. The younger man was a little embarrassed, he usually tried not to do that, but he had slept so soundly, he had opened his eyes around the time Lawrence typically got off work. He was too smelly to go out into the world like that, and by the time he had showered, Lawrence was back home.

The older man didn’t seem bothered by it, simply kissed him on the cheek and offered him dinner, which Adam didn’t think he could refuse.

“How was your day?” Adam asked, munching on some carrots Lawrence had served as ‘appetizers.’ He had never been a big fan of fruits and vegetables, but he hadn’t eaten since the previous night, he was starving.

“It was alright. Just another day.”

“Cool.”

He took another bite of the carrot he held, and noticed Lawrence’s hesitation, as he stirred the pasta he had thrown in a pot. Words were on his lips, but struggling to come out.

“Carla came to talk to me today,” Lawrence finally said, sounding unsure as to how to take it himself.

“Oh?” Adam remembered Carla. She had appeared in a few of his snapshots back in the day, but he mainly remembered her name from the few times Lawrence had mentioned her in conversation, when they talked about Lawrence’s marriage and regrets, or how Lawrence had been looking for answers about his sexuality this whole time. He knew the two of them had been keeping their distance since the incident.

“Yeah, she came to talk to me a few weeks ago, telling me she’d heard about the divorce, and she was sorry and all that. Since then, she’s been… around. It seemed before that she was avoiding me, but now it’s like she’s trying to be friends… or something.”

“Are you sure she just wants to be friends?”

Lawrence sighed. “I don’t know. She just suddenly started showing interest again after my divorce. I am afraid she sees this as an opening.”

“That would be awkward.”

“Yeah. I am starting to think that maybe she thought my failing marriage was the reason I pushed her away. And now that it’s over, it’s not in the way anymore. Today she asked me if I wanted to go see a show this weekend.”

“Yep, she wants to get in your pants.”

Lawrence threw him a disapproving, yet slightly amused look.

“I said no, obviously.”

“Do you think she got it? That you’re not interested?”

“I hope so.”

“Were you harsh?”

“Well, no…”

“Then she probably didn’t get it.”

Lawrence pulled a face, Adam chuckled. He walked over to where Lawrence was standing in front of the oven, his back turned to him, and he slipped his arms around his waist, positioning his cheek against the older man’s back.

“You’ll have to break her heart,” Adam said.

Lawrence laid a hand over Adam’s, on his stomach.

“I know. I don’t want to be mean to her, I feel I have already been unfair to her.”

“That’s life.”

Lawrence sighed. “How do you tell a nice girl that you never loved her? That she was just a pawn in a journey of self-discovery, denial and confusion?”

“Well, you can drop the part about being a pawn, but the rest works.”

Lawrence turned around and faced him, laying a hand over Adam’s cheek. “I am happy that you’re here,” he said, and Adam awkwardly smiled in return.

Lawrence kissed him briefly, a quick brush of his lips, and then returned to the food. Adam returned to his carrot. He could get used to this, he thought. Healthy foods. Home cooked meals. Loving embraces.

He could get used to this, if he didn’t think about it too hard, didn’t let his thoughts spiral where they didn’t belong. Where it hurt.


	14. Chapter 14

Lawrence had been living in his new place for nearly three months. It was around eleven at night. He was sitting on his usual side of the bed, reading. Adam was lying next to him, sprawled on the mattress in his underwear, flipping through some magazine. The younger man wasn’t working that night, and if he was still here at this hour, it usually meant he would spend the night. Even though he probably wouldn’t fall asleep until morning. It was something he had been doing more and more, staying over.

It had hit Lawrence recently, how much time Adam had been spending in Lawrence’s apartment. Lawrence certainly wasn’t complaining. He much preferred that to the alternative of the two of them spending time over at Adam’s apartment. Lawrence’s was cleaner, nicer, and most importantly, termite free.

It had become a routine for Adam to drop by after work, in the morning, so they could eat breakfast together. By the time Lawrence had to leave for work, Adam was exhausted. The first few times Lawrence had offered him to just stay here and sleep, the younger man had fussed and made a big deal of it. But eventually, it had just become a habit. These days, when Lawrence came back from work, Adam would be watching TV in his living room, or sometimes still sleeping. They would eat dinner, Adam would go to work, and they would start it all over again the next day.

Adam wouldn’t go back to his place for days on end, and when he did, it was mostly for the sake of appearances, Lawrence suspected. The younger man still feared he would be a strain on Lawrence’s generosity.

After a while, Lawrence had freed a drawer for him, so he could stop carrying his tooth brush and extra pairs of underwear to and from work. For the sake of it, Adam had again fussed and protested. But he had used the drawer. Then a drawer had become two drawers. Adam had started doing his laundry here because he was tired of paying for the laundromat. And eventually, the sake of appearances no longer bore the same weight as before, and Adam went back home less and less.

Adam slept better at Lawrence’s place, the doctor could see that. He was pretty sure he had heard Adam’s sister make a comment about him looking better rested too, on one occasion where Lawrence had given Adam a ride to her place. He looked a little less pale, and the dark circles were no longer digging quite as deeply into the skin under his eyes. It wasn’t all perfect, but the change in environment seemed to be helping.

And if Lawrence was to be completely honest, he slept better when Adam was there too. As much as leaving the old house had been needed, and as much as Alison’s presence had felt suffocating near the end, he found it hard, sometimes, adapting to life on his own. With Diana staying with him only every other weekend, he was left with a lot of time on his hands to just… contemplate his thoughts, alone. When Adam was there, he felt safer, somehow.

“What?” Adam said, suddenly realizing that the other man was staring at him.

Lawrence smiled. “Nothing. Just looking at you.”

Adam pulled a face. “Weirdo.” He tried returning his attention to his magazine, but after a few more seconds of Lawrence staring, he slapped it closed and re-entered the fray. “Seriously man, is there something on my face?”

Lawrence chuckled. “No. I was just thinking that you’ve been looking better lately.”

“Huh… ok. Thanks?”

“Does it help you to sleep here?”

Adam seemed to hesitate before answering. “I guess so.”

“I was wondering if you were thinking of shifting to day shifts at work sometime soon. Since you’ve been sleeping better, maybe you don’t need to work at night anymore.”

Adam sighed. “I don’t know, man, I’ve got a good thing going, I don’t know if I want to mess with it.”

“Are you going to work night shifts forever?”

Lawrence hadn’t tried directing Adam to a more ‘noble’ career, not since that one conversation they had had months ago, when Adam had told him not everyone was as privileged as Lawrence when it came to education and professional options. It had been a bit of a wakeup call for Lawrence, and he hadn’t dared try telling him what to do ever since. At least, not when it came to work. If Adam wanted to look for something he was actually passionate about, he would have to make that decision for himself, Lawrence thought.

But if he made it a point not to advise Adam on his line of work, he figured he could at least advise him on certain of his lifestyle choices. Like his sleeping schedule. Even if Adam slept better now, sleeping during the day still wasn’t as good for him as sleeping at night would. As a doctor, he could at least advise that kind of thing.

“Maybe it’s time for you to think about trying it out, going back to… sleeping at night,” Lawrence added. He prevented himself from saying _going back to normal_   just in time.

Adam sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I can think about it.”

Lawrence hesitated. He wanted to ask something else, but didn’t know how the other man would take it. “You know you can continue sleeping here if you want, even at night.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Maybe you should move in.”

The silence after that was deafening. It seemed as if, on top of Adam not responding, any sound in the apartment had also stopped, stilled, waiting for a reaction.

“What?” the younger man eventually asked.

“I think you should move in. You said it yourself, you sleep better when you’re here. You’re already spending most of your time here. And that apartment of yours really isn’t doing you any good. I think it’s time for you to move out. And there’s room here.”

“Lawrence, I… I don’t know, I -”

“You don’t have to decide right now. Just think about it, and let me know.”

“Wouldn’t me moving in be a little… hasty?”

“I think nothing about us is normal anyway.”

“Yeah…”

For a moment, Adam just looked dazed, staring at the ceiling, pensive. Lawrence tried to go back to reading, but ended up mostly pretending, trying not to overwhelm the other man.

“I can’t afford a place like this,” Adam said after a few minutes of silence.

“You don’t have to pay me anything. Save that money for something important.”

“Lawrence, I can’t live here for free.”

“You can.”

“Lawrence…”

“Fine. You can pay me whatever you’re paying now for your current place, then.”

“That’s not fair…”

“Actually it’s very fair. Our salaries are very different. It doesn’t make sense that we should pay the same thing. Continue paying the same rent, but let me take you out of this toxic place of yours. It would make me very happy to see you living in a place like here, where you’re evidently doing lot better.”

“Lawrence…”

“You _know_ this isn’t just generosity, Adam. You must know that. It helps me to have you here. I sleep better when I am not alone. I like it when you’re here. It’s actually a pretty selfish request, if you think about it.”

Adam looked at him with thin, suspicious eyes, scanning his words for lies intended to make him feel good. In the end, he seemed to deem his words truthful enough.

“Ok. Hypothetically speaking, _if_ I moved in. What would we tell people? There’s only two bedrooms, and the other one is Diana’s.”

“We can figure that out later.”

“It’s kind of important.”

“Not that important.”

“…but kinda.”

Lawrence sighed, yet unable to display actual irritation. “We can say that you’re sleeping in the other room, and you’ll sleep on the couch when Diana is here. Or I can move my office in the living room and put a bed in there. There are ways, we’ll figure one out. The only real concern here, is that we don’t really have space for a darkroom here. But I am sure we can find a way.”

“Darkroom is not important.”

Lawrence wanted to protest, but decided against it. It was a delicate subject. He knew that Amy had been taking Adam on little photography field trips, which Adam complained a lot about. Lawrence suspected Adam was starting to enjoy them a little, but he also knew that Adam had not developed a single photo from these trips. That would have meant going into the darkroom, and that was manifestly still too much to ask.

Maybe he should contact Amy, look with her for some kind of darkroom available to the public, maybe something he could rent out for Adam. But that was a thought for a later day.

“Just think about it, ok?” Lawrence asked softly.

Adam sighed once more. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

oOoOo

“Ok fine. Whatever. Let’s do it.”

oOoOo

The phone call was not one he was excited to make. But it had to happen, if he wanted to avoid any future problems regarding their custody agreement.

“Hello, Larry?” Alison’s voice sounded tired, but she didn’t sound annoyed, so Lawrence figured it wasn’t because _he_ was calling. That was a good sign.

“Hey Ali. How are you?”

“Not too bad, just a lot of work. Diana’s been doing well in school, though. She got an A in her latest math test.”

“That’s wonderful! Tell her I am proud.”

“I will. And how are you?”

“Not too bad either. I hope I am not calling at a bad time?”

“No, no, it’s fine. What is it?”

Lawrence breathed in slowly. “I was just calling, I wanted to let you know… Adam and I talked, and he’ll be moving in with me. It really doesn’t change anything about Diana’s visits, I just wanted to let you know. I don’t want you to think I am hiding things from you. But again, it doesn’t change anything.” It came out a little unstructured, but Lawrence figured there was no perfect way to say this. He braced himself for impact.

There was a long pause, which made him anxious. Alison and he had been civil ever since the separation. They hadn’t really fought, except once or twice, about minor things over the phone. He didn’t want their good streak to end now, for something that he felt wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.

After a moment, Alison’s voice made itself heard again. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Lawrence?” Her tone was soft, intended to be friendly, but he did not like the concern she conveyed with her words.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, can’t Adam find his own place?”

“I don’t know why that should bother you.”

“It doesn’t, it’s just… Larry, I – Don’t take this the wrong way, but… I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of your generosity.”

Lawrence understood the implication. Adam didn’t have a lot of money, didn’t have a great career. She thought his friendship with Lawrence was a little too convenient. He felt his teeth grit, but fought to keep his cool. Now was not the time to pick a fight. He kept his tone calm, but firm. “Adam is not abusing, I offered. He is a good friend, and we are helping each other.”

“Did he… get evicted?”

“Alison.” He spoke her name rigidly enough that she understood not to push it further.

“Right, I am sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I am happy if he’s helping you.”

“He is.”

“But Larry, where will he sleep? I thought you only had two rooms. Where will Diana sleep when she comes over?”

Adam and he hadn’t quite figured that part out yet, in the end. When Adam had finally said yes, the important details and technicalities had been pretty much forgotten. He felt silly now for not having anticipated that question, despite Adam having brought it up before.

He opted for vagueness. “Don’t worry, Diana will always have her room when she’s with me, that doesn’t change. Nothing is changing for Diana.”

The silence that followed told Lawrence that Alison was still waiting for details of their arrangement. He didn’t want to divulge more than he already had, and so he waited.

“Right,” Alison eventually said. “Ok.”

She sounded like she still had a lot of questions, but she kept them to herself. His tone must have advised her against pushing it. She might come charging again later, but for now, she let it be. They hung up with civilities, and Lawrence took the following minutes to just breathe in, breathe out.

One more step done.

oOoOo

Lawrence woke up in the middle of the night, with a loud pounding on his front door. He took a few seconds to grasp where he was, what time it was. Adam was sprawled on the bed, next to him. Another night off he hadn’t bothered going home for. The younger man must have fallen asleep not too long ago, after staring at the ceiling for a few hours. It was three in the morning.

The pounding made itself heard again, and Lawrence slid his legs off the bed, looking for his prosthetic foot. When he couldn’t find it in the dark, he settled for his crutches. He grabbed a random t-shirt and his boxer shorts laying on the floor, fiddling to put them on quickly. When the pounding happened again, Adam started stirring.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered to the younger man. “I’ll deal with it.”

Adam slumped back into the pillows. He was very naked, with nothing but a thin sheet covering the strict necessary. They had watched a movie, hadn’t really paid attention near the end. They had stumbled their way to the bed during the end credits – maybe a little before, actually. Minutes later, Lawrence had collapsed on the mattress, panting, next to a just as exhausted Adam – or, ok, maybe not _as_ exhausted, he was still in his twenties after all – and Lawrence had fallen asleep pretty quickly after that. Too quickly for him to grab some clothes to sleep in.

The pounding again. “Yes, coming!” he yelled, loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door, as he made his way through the living area on his crutches.

He slung the door open in one swift moment, ready to give a piece of his mind to whoever was ill-mannered enough to disturb them in the middle of the night. He was not ready, however, for the delicate features and dark hair he found himself faced with. He stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Carla?”

She wobbled a little on her feet. “Dr. Gordon, hi!” She was drunk.

“Carla, what are you doing here? How did you find my address?”

She answered with a smile, which she probably intended to be mischievous, but ended up looking clumsy and silly. “I was thinking about you,” was all she said, slurring a little.

“Carla, I don’t think you should be here.”

“I just wanted to surprise you!”

“Carla, you shouldn’t be here. You should leave.”

He tried to sound firm, but all it did was spark her to suddenly charge and push him, not too hard, but just enough that he lost his balance and had to lean on the wall by the door to steady himself. The move was enough to give Carla room to come in, which she did.

“Carla!” he exclaimed, steadying himself on his crutches, before going after her. She made her way through the open space kitchen and living area, seemingly unbuttoning her shirt as she did so. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Dr. Gordon. I was patient, but you’re not with your wife anymore.”

He tried to keep up with her, but with crutches, he was definitely slower. “Carla, I am sorry if I led you to believe that – ”

“I think you’re scared,” she said, looking at him from a distance with knowing eyes – which probably looked more seductive in her drunk mind – and slipped her blouse off her shoulders. “I want to help.”

“Carla, please.”

She kept backing up through the living room, closer and closer to the bedroom door. The doors to his office and Diana’s room were closed, so it must not have been too difficult for her to guess which one was his, Lawrence supposed. She was backing up slowly and Lawrence was trying to catch up, while also trying not to provoke her to do anything stupid. When he finally tried making a few bigger strides to get to her, she bolted and ran the rest of the way to the bedroom door.

Instantly, she stopped in her tracks. From the angle Lawrence had, just a few steps behind Carla, he could see Adam’s body under the sheets, covered with the barest minimum of decency. The younger man was propped on his elbows, looking at Carla with tired eyes. “The fuck?” Adam said softly, crunching his facial traits in confusion.

Carla was immobile, gaping at the scene in front of her. There was no question about what had transpired earlier that night, Adam was undeniably naked under the covers, and his disheveled look only added to the vividness of the scene. Slowly, Carla turned her head to look in horror at Lawrence. Her eyebrows were curved, as if praying for Lawrence to give her a different explanation from the one she was imagining.

He did not. He instead let the silence do the work.

That was, until Adam lost patience. “What the fuck is going on?”

This seemed to snap Carla back to reality. “You’re gay?” she asked with what sounded like either disbelief or disgust. Or both. She suddenly seemed sorely sober.

“Carla, I think you should leave.”

And she did. She grabbed her blouse, which was laying in a bundle on the floor of the living room, and ran out the door.

When the sound of the door slamming shut was heard, Adam gave Lawrence a look, clearly asking for some kind of explanation.

“That was Carla.”

“Oh…” He vaguely remembered her silhouette from the pictures, but since Lawrence had rarely seen her in public settings while Adam was tailing him, he couldn’t have recognized her like this, months later. “Well, that was awkward.”

Despite the horrific scene he had just witnessed, Lawrence couldn’t help the chuckle he let escape. Adam followed suit, and they just laughed for a moment, at how surreal this whole scene was. Lawrence made his way back to bed, slinging an arm around Adam’s waist.

“I think she’ll leave you alone now,” the younger man said.

Lawrence chuckled again. “Yeah. I guess she will.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Adam’s lease still had two more months on it, but within two weeks of his agreeing to do it, his stuff was moved to Lawrence’s apartment. He didn’t bring too much. His clothes, a few valuables. He brought none of the furniture, most of it had been there when he had moved in anyway. Lawrence had helped him clear the place, particularly with the darkroom. Adam still couldn’t quite get himself to go in there, so Lawrence had been the one collecting the pictures that hadn’t been seized by the police after the incident. Adam had said he should just get rid of the equipment, but Lawrence had carefully stored it all into boxes, and stored it in a closet at his place. For later. Some day.

Adam had tried switching to day shifts at work, but his boss had thrown a fit. Said no one else wanted the night shifts, said he couldn’t just spring it on him like that. So he was still doing night shifts, and he was now looking for a new job, somewhere closer to Lawrence’s apartment.

Or, well, _their_ apartment. He would have to get used to that. He couldn’t help feeling like a guest still.

On the first weekend of Diana coming over after the move, Adam arranged for himself to spend both nights at Amy’s. Lawrence would never have asked him to, but Adam had offered. He figured he should give them some space. Even though Lawrence hadn’t been too specific about the details of his call with Alison, Adam could sense that Lawrence’s ex-wife hadn’t been too happy about the new living arrangement. It was probably polite of him not to be there for the first few visits.

“So how’s the new place?” Amy asked, handing him a beer. He took it, and she took a seat in front of him at her kitchen table.

“Good.”

Amy snorted. “Just good? Dude, I haven’t been inside your new home, but if the area is any indicator, it’s some expensive shit you got.”

Adam shrugged. He had struggled to explain to her why he was moving in with an older divorced man, he didn’t want to get back into this discussion.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am glad you got out of that place. That shithole wasn’t healthy.”

“Yeah.” Adam was a little tired of people talking about his apartment like it was the third world right there, twenty minutes away from city center. It was a shithole, no question there, he had always said it himself. But it was also where he had lived for nearly eight years, where he had become an independent adult. He still felt weird about moving into a place way out of his means, for which he wasn’t paying anywhere near half the rent, and hearing everyone telling him how this was so much better just felt… a little dissonant.

But he shrugged and nodded instead of getting into an argument about it, because he knew his sister, and if she decided to ask questions about why he moved in the first place if he was so uncomfortable about it, he wasn’t sure he could dodge them for long.

“And how’s the job search?” she asked. Adam felt relief at the change of subject.

“Alright, I guess. I applied in a few stores and joints I found around the area, waiting to hear back.”

“You know, I have a friend who is a manager at a café not too far away from where you are. I could put in a good word if you want.”

Adam scoffed. “You want me to make pumpkin lattes?” That sounded like the kind of job where his coworkers would be sixteen year old brats with acne. Plus, he’d have to talk to people, which sounded anything but attractive. He certainly didn’t think he fit the ideal profile for customer service. His sarcasm would get him in trouble sooner or later.

“I know it’s not the most intellectually challenging job, but they do a lot of art exhibitions there, the owner has a thing for giving a platform to starving artists or something. Maybe you’d like it.”

“Amy –” They had been having that conversation multiple times already. She wanted to help, she wanted to get him back into photography, help him conquer whatever was stopping him. She meant well. But he was tired of having the same argument over and over again.

But before he could finish what he was going to say, Amy jumped back in.

“Hey, I am not saying you have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want to take pictures, fine. But I just thought working at an artsy café would be nicer than cleaning toilets overnight.”

She had a point. “Yeah maybe.” She was probably going to talk to her friend whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t worth the fight.

She still took him on field trips with his camera every once in a while. He humored her, figured it was an excuse to get some fresh air. Plus the weather was much nicer now.

“I hear you haven’t developed any of your pictures from our excursions,” Amy said, out of the blue. As if she knew what he had just been thinking.

He raised his eyes from his beer to look at her in surprise, bordering on shock. “What?”

“The pictures you’ve been taking when I drag you out. Have you developed any of them?”

Adam squinted at her, feeling suspicious. “Have you been talking to Lawrence?” She looked away. “Oh my god…”

“Maybe in passing,” she admitted.

“How? You hardly ever see him in my presence! Are you talking behind my back?”

“It’s nothing like that, Adam. Jeez, chill. He called to ask if I knew of any public darkrooms in the area, he was concerned that he couldn’t make you one in your new place.”

Lawrence hadn’t told him that. He felt a little irritated. It felt like they were all ganging up against him. He didn’t like that.

“That’s pointless.”

“Yeah, well, seems like you’re surrounded by at least two people who are as fucking stubborn as you are so, good luck with that.”

Adam scoffed again, but decided not to answer that. She was right. If his sister and Lawrence combined forces, he was screwed.

“Want another beer?”

“Hell yes.”

oOoOo

There had been gossip going around at the hospital. Adam knew that. Lawrence had been coming back from work looking aggravated for days. From what he had gathered, Lawrence didn’t really know what it was about, but he regularly caught nurses staring, and more than once, a group of interns had abruptly stopped talking when he had entered the room.

It had started not long after the incident with Carla. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where it all came from.

Adam knew it was unreasonable, but he felt somewhat responsible. From the very beginning, he had been afraid to be a burden on Lawrence, to abuse his kindness, and just as he was getting comfortable and starting to think that maybe this whole happiness thing could work out, the side effects were starting to show. Right when he was starting to think his presence wasn’t polluting Lawrence’s life as much as he had envisioned, now he was seeing the first signs of smog.

“Fuck them,” Adam had said. He hoped his insouciant façade was believable, and would transfer onto Lawrence. He knew the older man enough to know that, if he suspected Adam’s insecurities, he’d make it his problem to reassure him. As if he needed anything else to worry about.

Lawrence had smiled, wrapping two arms around Adam’s shoulders and resting his temple against his hair. They stood like this for a while, in the middle of their kitchen, embracing each other, feeling the other’s breathing through the movements of their chests.

“Thank you,” Lawrence whispered into his ear.

Adam didn’t know how to respond. So he said nothing, and held on.

oOoOo

“This is ridiculous.”

Adam stared at the bathtub in disbelief. It was filled with water, almost steaming. But most importantly, there were bubbles. All over the surface. It looked like a sheep murder scene. Or a teenage girl’s conceptualization of the perfect way to lose her virginity. Either way, it was catastrophic.

“You agreed to this.”

That he had. Lawrence had been kissing his neck while they were watching another one of those pointless TV movies, and he was really starting to get into it, so when Lawrence had said he needed to shower, Adam was disappointed. But then Lawrence had said maybe he could take a bath instead, relax a little, and Adam hadn’t been too sure why he was telling him this. Until he’d said he could join him, and his disappointment had disappeared real quick.

He had made it sound real sexy. A hot bath, the two of them naked in it. Adam didn’t need anything else to convince him that this was something he could get into.

But he hadn’t agreed to the bubbles. “Did the bubbles really have to be a part of this?”

Lawrence smiled mockingly. “It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

“I thought the ‘relaxing’ part was meant as some kind of euphemism.”

Lawrence chuckled and started kissing his forehead, temple, cheek, chin, neck… Lawrence’s hands snuck under his shirt and started pulling it over his head. When the older man started kissing his chest, he thought maybe he could get into this thing after all.

Lawrence slowly took Adam’s clothes off, piece by piece, and after a moment, Adam snapped back to reality and did the same for Lawrence. When almost fully naked, the older man sat on the side of the tub and took his prosthetic foot off, laying it carefully on the floor, where it wouldn’t get wet. Then, he slipped into the warm water and rested his back against one end of the tub. He gestured for Adam to join in.

Feeling clumsy and weird, Adam put one foot in, then the other. He lowered himself until he was mostly under water, up to his shoulders, and rested his back against Lawrence’s chest. The other man’s arms slid around his waist and, while he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was feeling oddly cozy.

“So? Not too bad after all?”

“Hm. Whatever.”

It was actually pretty great. Just by sitting there, he could feel his muscles relax one by one. Even the bubbles didn’t feel as annoying as he thought they would. But he had an image to maintain, so he would keep sneering if he had to.

“Did you not take baths before?” Lawrence asked, while plunging a facecloth in the warm water around them and running it against the skin of Adam’s arm.

“I mean, when I was a child, sure.”

“Never after that?”

“I guess it wasn’t really efficient.”

Lawrence chuckled lightly, and Adam thought he heard him whisper, “Figures.” But he let it slide, because Lawrence’s gentle motions to clean his arms and chest felt really, really nice.

They stayed like this for a while, long enough for the water to lose its warmth, but Adam kept his back against Lawrence’s chest, letting him wash his body, wash his hair, and tell him about things he didn’t really understand in the midst of all of this.

And then it came out of nowhere. One second, they were mindlessly, innocently laughing at something trivial, and then it just came out of Lawrence’s mouth, hitting him like a truck.

“I love you.” The words left the older man’s lips and sneaked their way into his ear, resonating in his head, louder and louder, until his entire brain was under alert.

There was a silence, and Adam knew he was meant to say it back. Or at least say something. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t get himself to say it. His entire body felt tense all of a sudden. The seconds went by, and he felt like a ticking time bomb would go off anytime soon, once Lawrence realized he wasn’t going to say it.

But in the end, there was no explosion. No anger. No disappointment. “I just thought you should hear it.” Lawrence’s voice was tender, understanding. And just like that, the moment was over, Lawrence was talking about something else, and Adam pretended like those three words weren’t still ringing in his ears, loud, distracting, overwhelming.

oOoOo

Adam had been in love once. Like, really in love, head over heels, smitten, engraving hearts and initials on tree barks kind of in love. He had been young, barely seventeen. She was nineteen. Red hair, wore sunglasses at night, smoke cigarettes like the sexy actresses on cinema screens. She looked cool, out of reach, but when they were together, she felt normal, open, accessible. Real. He felt like he was privy to a side of her that few others got to see. Like he was on a special guest list at a very exclusive party, and only his name was on it.

He had been with girls before, quite a few actually. But she was the first to make him feel like he wanted to give her everything, instead of taking and leaving. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted to be with her all the time, watch her at every moment of her life, know everything there was to know about her. He felt flutters in his stomach when she leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. He blushed when she touched his arm. He felt ashamed for it, but she made him feel like a romcom stereotype.

The first time they made love – interesting, how he had never used those words to describe his intercourse with anyone else – it was awkward, clumsy, but he felt like he connected with her in a way he never had with anyone else before. And he thought that that must be why people said “make love,” when it was the right one.

He was in love.

And so when she asked him to help with a few errands, he thought nothing of it. Didn’t ask questions. Because that was what people did for the ones that they loved – help them. Right?

It started small. A few minor transactions in back alleys. Delivering to clients she couldn’t attend to.

The errands had multiplied, he took more and more risks for her, because she had asked nicely. One day, there was a drug bust, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he got front row seats for the whole shit show. He was interrogated for what felt like hours. He said as little as he could, never mentioned her name, because she would come to his rescue, he knew it.

But she never did. He was a minor, he went to juvenile detention for a few months. He never saw her after that.

He never gave the whole story enough thought to qualify it as traumatic, as the start of his trust issues, as the trigger of his cynicism and inability to open up to people around him. He built a wall around himself, left the family home, started gradually distancing himself from his family. Tried making a living of what he loved, and when that failed, even his only passion was turned into something ugly, just so he could survive.

And so Adam Stanheight had become the angry, apathetic, but mostly pathetic man that he was.


	16. Chapter 16

“Daddy?”

Lawrence did not raise his eyes from the toy car he was trying to fix, too focused as he was, sitting at the kitchen table.  “Yes, honey?”

The toy had slipped from Diana’s fingers when her mom had dropped her off an hour ago. It had hit the floor hard, and the wheel had come off. Diana wasn’t a child who cried much, but Lawrence hadn’t missed the quiet tear forming in the corner of her eye when she took in the damage. It was her favorite toy, Alison had said. And because Lawrence was a weak sucker when it came to his daughter, he took it upon himself to fix it. Even though he now regretted it, he wasn’t good with that kind of things, the plastic around the hole had broken too, it wasn’t an easy fix.

“What is this?” she asked. Not knowing what she was pointing at, he finally raised his eyes and looked at what his daughter was holding.

“Oh, Diana, careful!” he exclaimed, grasping for his cane as he got up and limped to where Diana was standing. In her hands, one of Adam’s camera lenses. “This is fragile.”

He carefully took it from Diana’s fingers and delicately put it down on the table. “What is it?” she repeated. Diana seemed unconcerned at not having the object in her hands anymore, still looking at it curiously from where she stood.

Lawrence kneeled in front of her to level with her eyes while he spoke to her. “It’s a camera lens. It goes on the camera to take pictures.”

She nodded, looking fascinated. “Can we take pictures with it?”

“Well, not right now. Adam took the rest of his camera equipment with him for the weekend.”

“This is Adam’s?”

“Yes, it’s Adam’s.”

Diana looked at the instrument laying on the table, looking pensive. Lawrence smiled as he watched the figurative wheels turning in her young brain. Diana knew that Lawrence had a friend living with him, but Adam was rarely there when she was here. He didn’t want to impose, he said. Once in a while, however, Adam would come back in the late afternoon of Sunday, when Diana was still here, and they would have dinner altogether. Adam claimed that he wasn’t good with children, they made him awkward, but Lawrence could tell that the younger man was secretly fond of Diana. Whenever he thought Lawrence wasn’t looking or listening, he would engage in funny little conversations with her, humoring her in her youth’s imagination, prodding at how she perceived the world, and laughing at the crazy yet adorable things she said. Diana too, who was a particularly shy child, was slowly opening up. Lawrence liked seeing them bond like that. It was important to him that Diana and Adam got along in some way.

“Are you and Adam married?”

Lawrence was snapped out of his thoughts by the question, and he gaped at his daughter for a second, a little stunned.

“What? Why are you asking that?”

She replied with a very matter of fact tone, manifestly finding her deduction reasonable. “You and mommy were married and you lived together. Then, when you weren’t married anymore, you moved to separate houses. So if you’re living with Adam now, does it mean that you’re married with him?”

Lawrence gaped a little longer, before slipping into a fit of laughter. “Oh, honey, aren’t you smart?” He laughed some more. “No, Adam and I aren’t married. We’re good friends. Sometimes, friends live together too.”

“Why?”

“Well, sometimes they live together to save money. Other times, they live together because they enjoy each other’s company and they don’t like living alone.”

Diana nodded. “I don’t like being alone in my room at night. But when I have a friend over, it’s ok.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of like that, I suppose. I like it better when Adam is here.”

Diana nodded again. She seemed to understand what he was telling her. Lawrence didn’t like omitting certain truths with her, but the timing wasn’t right. Adam and he had been… ‘together’ for a few months. Even though he wasn’t quite sure what counted as the beginning of the thing they had. They hadn’t really defined what it was they had either, they had never really tried putting terms on it. Lawrence had blurted out that he loved Adam a few weeks back. It was true, he meant it. But he felt bad for springing that on Adam, who evidently needed a bit more time to process everything. The younger man hadn’t said it back, Lawrence didn’t want to push it. Not for now.

“Why is Adam’s camera thing in your room?” Diana asked, again snapping Lawrence out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“I found Adam’s thing on the nightstand in your room. Does Adam sleep in your room too?”

An alarm sounded in Lawrence’s brain. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He was okay with omitting information, he was much less comfortable with outright lying to his daughter’s face. But he had to think fast.

“There’s more space in my room. So Adam stores his things in there.”

Diana looked at him in silence, and for a moment, he thought his eight-year-old was going to call his bluff.

But then she nodded and started making her way to the living room, to play with her dolls. Lawrence took a moment before getting back on his feet, thinking he really needed to anticipate these types of question more.

oOoOo

It was the Wednesday after Diana’s latest visit when the phone rang in Lawrence’s apartment. He didn’t get many calls, so he fumbled around the living room, looking for the cordless phone, before finally locating it between the couch’s cushions.

“Hello?” he answered, almost out of breath.

“Larry?” It was Alison.

“Ali, hi. How are you?”

“I’m ok.” She didn’t ask him how _he_ was. This wasn’t a good sign.

“To what do I owe this call?” he asked nicely, hoping for the best.

There was a pause. His heart nearly sank. Eventually, she seemed to opt for a safe question, although he could sense it wasn’t the real cause of her call. “How was your weekend with Diana?”

“Really good! We had a lot of fun. I fixed her toy car, she was pretty happy about that.”

“Yes, she showed me, she was pretty proud.”

“Well, I am glad she’s happy.”

Another pause. “And how’s Adam?”

Lawrence raised his eyebrows. She never asked about Adam. “Good? He has an interview for a new job tomorrow, he’s pretty optimistic.”

Yet another silence, he wanted to shake the receiver until she came out with whatever she had on her mind. Eventually, she did.

“Lawrence, are you telling me everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything you’re not telling me… about Adam?”

This time, his heart really sank. What did she know? “Ali… I don’t know what you’re saying.”

She sighed. “I heard some things, Larry… I met Samantha the other day at the store. Samantha Gregor.” Gregor, yes. She was the wife of Darryl Gregor, another doctor at the hospital. He didn’t like where this was going. “She looked concerned, and she said things… about you. Stuff Darryl heard at the hospital. It all sounded like silly gossip, so I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. But then, there’s things that Diana has been telling me, things she’s seen at your place… Larry, I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but…” She ended her sentence there, with a clearly audible ellipsis.

And so the hospital gossip had made its way to Alison. He hadn’t thought it would become a problem, he had convinced himself it would die off eventually, he just had to ignore it until something else came up. He hadn’t thought it would get to his family…

And yet, in the midst of all of this, he couldn’t help but wonder what Diana could have seen. Had she seen them hold hands under the table, during the occasional Sunday dinner? Had she seen him kiss Adam’s cheek when they thought she wasn’t looking? Or had she just never bought the excuse about why Adam’s stuff was in Lawrence’s room?

“So you’re going to listen to foolish gossip?” he said, sounding a lot more on the defensive than he had hoped.

Alison sighed audibly. “Look, Larry, I am not here to judge or anything. Your life is your life. I am only thinking of Diana here.”

The anxiety he felt suddenly turned to fire. “This has nothing to do with Diana.” His tone was biting. He was doing his best at being a good father, he couldn’t believe she would use his love life, so hardly earned, against him.

“Well, actually, it does, Larry. Think of it this way. If I had a boyfriend and he was always over when Diana is here, would you like it?”

He was burning, but a little voice of reason was speaking at the back of his mind. No. He wouldn’t like it. He knew Alison finding someone was most likely going to happen, and he wanted her to be happy of course, but he wouldn’t want her to parade her boyfriends in front of Diana, at least not until she’d been steady with the same guy for a while. Even if it was just for dinner, on Sunday nights. Diana needed stability, after this whole ordeal and the divorce. She didn’t need people coming and going. She needed people staying. And as much as he wanted to believe that Adam would always hold his position by his side, what if he didn’t?

The fire slowly went out. After a moment of silence, all he did was mutter, “Adam can spend the weekends at his sister’s when Diana is over. He has already been doing it.” He would just have to come back later on Sundays.

“Alright. Thank you.”

And without anything more than a swift “bye,” he hung up. Adam had already been leaving the apartment to give him space with his daughter, but he felt bad for now making it a rule. Adam had been the one taking the initiative to leave, Lawrence had never asked it of him.

Maybe this would only have to be for a few months. Until they were considered ‘steady.’ If Adam was okay with that.

And he tried not to think about how he had basically just come out to his ex-wife.


	17. Chapter 17

It was a sunny week of late June when Adam had his first few shifts at his new job. He wasn’t proud that his sister had gotten him the interview, but it was more exciting work than mopping floors or selling greasy foods, he had to give her that. So he sucked it up and took it. At least he didn’t have to wear stupid uniforms here. The place had a pretty casual feel, which he appreciated. And there were no pumpkin lattes on the menu after all.

He sometimes had to work in the evening, but the place closed at ten, so he was always home by eleven. He would have to get used to sleeping at night again.

Today was his fifth shift, the first one he was doing without supervision. It was nine fifty, almost closing time. There hadn’t been a client in thirty minutes, and he thought he might be able to finish closing quickly, get home a little early. He was wiping tables when he heard the little bell signaling someone coming in. Damn it. He had just cleaned the coffee machines.

He turned around and saw a pretty young woman, tall, not very curvy, maybe thirty, long brown hair tied in a lazy knot over her head. She smiled at him, and he politely smiled back as he made his way to the counter.

“Oh, I am not here to order anything, don’t worry,” she said with a knowing glimmer in her eyes. He felt relief, quickly followed by puzzlement. Why was she coming to a café ten minutes before the closing time, if not to order something that would absolutely ruin her beauty sleep?

When he failed to reply, she moved closer to the counter. “I am Holly.” She held up a hand over the counter, directed at him.

“Adam,” he replied hesitantly, taking the hand she offered.

“I am the artist,” she said moving her hand in a circular motion, pointing at the different paintings hung on the walls.

“Oh!” He remembered reading her name below said paintings. Holly Schlezinger. “Yeah, nice paintings.”

“Thanks.” Her smile brightened a little. “I was just here to pick up the money, one of my paintings was sold yesterday. Jessica said to drop by sometime today. Sorry I couldn’t come earlier.” Jessica was the manager, the infamous friend of Amy’s. He thought she had mentioned something about an artist dropping by, but he hadn’t listened very carefully. Some things never changed, some flaws could never be corrected.

“Right. I think it’s in here…” He took the set of keys from his pocket and looked for the one he had been told about, the one that would open the drawer below the counter. He tried two or three different ones before he found the right one. “Here,” he finally said, handing her an envelope.

“Thanks.” She slipped the money into her purse. “So you’re new here?”

“Yeah, started this week.”

“Cool. I come here a lot, I love this place.”

“Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Are you an artist too, Adam?”

He gazed at her with confusion. “What?”

“A lot of the people who come here or work here are artists. The owner herself is a painter.”

He had been told the story. Rita Leblanc, a French Canadian who had moved to the States in her youth, thinking she’d find success. She had been a starving artist most of her life, before determining that she needed a new line of work. But she was stubborn, and she used her business model to create a community for other struggling artists. It sounded pretty cool. Amy had told the manager Jessica that he was a photographer, which pissed off Adam, although it was probably the reason he had gotten the interview in the first place.

“Uh, not really,” he said dismissively.

Holly looked at him in surprise. “Really? That’s surprising. What drew you to this place?”

“My sister knew the manager.”

“I see.” She stared a little, scanning him with her eyes. It made him uncomfortable. “Well, you look like an artist.”

He scoffed. “What does that mean?”

“Just something about you. You learn to see that in people.”

He stared back for a moment, hesitant, before sighing and giving in. “I mean, I used to take pictures, but I don’t do that anymore.”

“How come?”

He gave her a look. He wasn’t going to dive into his life story with a stranger. “Long story.”

She smiled again, accepting the answer for what it was.

“Well, Adam, I’ll leave you to your work. I’ll see you around.”

“Sure.”

And on this, she left.

oOoOo

“Did I ever tell you what dad’s last words to me were?”

Adam turned his head to look at Amy’s profile. She was glancing up at the sky, from where they were, lying on the grass of the park near her place.

“No.”

They had never really talked about their father’s death. It had been the last main event to bring them back together, before they had officially drifted apart. Neither of them had ever been particularly good at having deep conversations with anyone, let alone each other. They were sarcastic people, using their wit as weapons against discomfort and awkwardness. They rarely opened up.

But lately, everything that had always consistently made sense throughout his teenage years and young adult life had been tumbling over, making him lose his grasp on basically everything. So Amy suddenly bringing up a taboo subject didn’t seem so out of place, in the midst of everything else changing in his world.

“You had gone out to get some soda at the vending machine. I think it was the day before he died. I was alone in the room with him, and he hardly said anything by that point, he had been silent for days. But at that moment, while you were out, he turned his head to me and he gestured a finger towards me. He was weak, so I had to get closer to hear him. You know what he said to me?”

“I think we’ve established that I don’t.”

“He said, ‘take care of your little brother.’”

Adam waited a bit before answering, “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah.”

Adam scoffed. “Classic dad. Drinking himself senseless for years to forget about mom, in the process often forgetting about us. And then a day before dying, decides to try and make himself look like he cared.”

“I think he did. Care, I mean.”

“Right.”

“I mean, he wasn’t completely lucid near the end. Maybe he had forgotten what year this was, maybe he thought we were still kids, and I was the oldest, so I had to take care of you from now on. Or maybe he remembered everything, and he suddenly felt guilty for not being there for us when we needed it, maybe that was his way of making amends for it, by ensuring we would take care of each other when he was gone. I don’t know. But that’s the last thing he said to me.”

“Cool story.”

Amy turned her head to look at him. They locked eyes, and she suddenly seemed a lot more serious than Adam would have expected. They had both very openly hated on their dad, before he was gone. After that, they hadn’t mentioned him.

“Sometimes, I wonder…” she started, hesitant. “If I didn’t fail you a little bit.”

Adam frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we didn’t really talk for years. I don’t think that counts as taking care of you.”

This time, Adam snorted. “I didn’t need taking care of. We were both adults by the time he died. Plus, it’s not like you owed him anything.”

“I am not saying this because dad asked. But before he died, when you were still a kid. I wasn’t really there.”

“I didn’t need you to be there.”

“I don’t know if that’s true. You got in trouble.”

“I was old enough to know better.”

“Yeah but you didn’t.”

“That’s the Stanheight family for ya.”

A humorless smile adorned Amy’s lips. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. But still. I was doing ok, when you weren’t.”

“I was a stubborn little shit. Had you tried helping, I would have probably spit in your face. Figuratively, I mean. Although, I was really immature, so maybe even literally…”

Amy laughed a little. She maintained eye contact with him, and the intensity of her look made him uncomfortable for a few seconds. He felt vulnerable, and he didn’t know how to address that. His instinct told him to shut her out, brush it all off and get back up, start heading back. But somehow, he didn’t want to do that.

“Are you happy?” Amy asked, looking so serious that Adam couldn’t even bring himself to answer sarcastically.

“I think so?” he said, unsure.

“Does it scare you?”

“Yeah.” It terrified him. He didn’t know how to be happy without fearing for the worst. He had never been happy for long, he only knew to live in fear, looking over his shoulder, waiting for the next hit.

“Yeah, me too. I guess us Stanheights don’t make it easy on ourselves.”

“Guess not.”

And they both turned their gaze back towards the sky, and looked at it in silence, until the sun started feeling less warm, and they headed back to Amy’s apartment.

oOoOo

“Can I look now?”

“Not yet.”

Adam sighed in frustration. The scarf wrapped around his eyes was getting itchy. He had been wearing it ever since he had been pushed into Lawrence’s car earlier. They had driven for just a few minutes, and now they were somewhere that sounded quiet, but there were enough background noises for him to know they were in a public space. He heard a few doors open and close, he brushed against a few smooth walls. Then, one last door closed behind them, and he heard a very light buzzing sound, one he knew he could recognize, somehow.

The scarf was slipped off his head, and he was surprised at how dark the room was. For a minute, he couldn’t quite register where he was, what was around him. Then, he registered the red lighting, the equipment arranged in front of him. They were in a darkroom.

“What the hell?”

He saw the etching of a smile on Lawrence’s lips, despite the dark surroundings. “I have been searching around for a little while, looking at some places. This is a public darkroom, you can rent it for a few hours at a time, as long as you book the day before. This is just one of them, there’s four more, so you should be able to have access to at least one of them when you need it. Plus, it’s only a fifteen minute walk from home.”

Adam gawked at his surroundings for a little longer. He had no idea how to react to all that information he was processing.

One side of him was irritated. Again, the whole photography thing was being sprung on him, and it felt like the people around him weren’t even trying to listen when he said that this kind of thing was behind him.

The other side of him, however, couldn’t help but feel touched that Lawrence cared that much. That side bothered him, but it was definitely there, making his heart flutter a little, like a girl.

“You’re not bound by any form of contract, so if you don’t want to use it, that’s your call,” Lawrence explained, as if he knew what was going on in his head. “I just wanted you to know that it’s there, if you want it.”

Adam sighed and turned to face Lawrence. Screw the irritated stubborn child side of him, Lawrence was being his usual, annoyingly kind self. “Thank you,” he said, meaning it.

Lawrence kissed him softly, slowly, delicately, before bringing him closer to his chest and holding him close. Adam’s head rested against Lawrence’s shoulder, and he breathed in slowly, taking in the moment. Inside him, the two sides of his mind kept wrestling. Lawrence was too generous, it wouldn’t last. But he had been there all this time, so clearly he meant it. Yet nothing that good ever lasted. Or it just hadn’t so far, things could change. In his experience, things never stayed good for long. But nothing had been the same since last Fall. He didn’t know what to believe, which side to listen to.

“I love you.” The whisper slipped into Adam’s ear, from the older man’s lips. With three words, the raucus of his mind was quieted, and only those words echoed in his head.

Adam tightened his grip on Lawrence’s shirt, which was the best kind of response he could muster. He said nothing. Couldn’t. Lawrence, appearing composed and unaffected, kissed him on the temple, before telling him they should go back now.

Adam nodded, and they drove back home in silence.


	18. Chapter 18

Lawrence was typing away at a report on his laptop when Diana appeared at his home office door. She approached shyly, squeezing a plush toy against her chest. She appeared hesitant, as if she had debated for a while whether to leave her bed and come to him.

“Hi honey… Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked gently. He had tucked her in about forty five minutes ago and, not having heard any sounds coming from her room since, he had assumed she was fast asleep.

“I can’t sleep.” Evidently, he had been wrong.

“Aw, honey. Come here.” He waved for her to join him at his desk, and she did. He noticed that the plush toy she was holding was her bunny one. It was her favorite of the moment. Having it with her helped her falling asleep. Although, visibly, it wasn’t fool proof.

When she reached the side of his chair, he lifted her and sat her on the knee of his good leg.

“What is it that’s keeping you awake? Is it nightmares?”

She shook her head. “I heard noises in the walls, I think there’s something there.”

Lawrence smiled a little. It was raining outside, and the heavy droplets of water resonated against the building. “Diana, that’s just the rain, you have nothing to worry about.” She didn’t look convinced. He couldn’t really blame her. Once, he had dismissed her fears and she had turned out to be right. One such time was enough to leave a scar.

“Want me to go inspect your room again?” he asked. She nodded with a smile, looking relieved. “Alright, let’s go.”

He helped her slide back to her feet, grabbed his cane and carefully got out of his chair. With his free hand, he took hold of her small fingers, and they walked back to the young girl’s room.

To the best of his ability, he looked in the closet, under the bed, behind the nightstand, and in every possible hiding place they could think of. They both silently listened to the rain, until she seemed convinced that that’s all it was. He stayed with her a little longer, letting her tell him about a few stories from school. He knew she was stalling, but for a few minutes, he would let her.

“Daddy?” she eventually said, right after wrapping up a story about the escape of the classroom’s mouse, which had sent the whole school in a frenzy.

“Yes, honey?”

“Why is Adam never here when I come anymore?”

Lawrence raised his eyebrows, surprised at the question. It had never really been a habit for Adam to be here when she was, but before the uncomfortable call with Alison, there had been the occasional Sunday dinner, just the three of them, Lawrence, Diana and Adam, before Lawrence had to drive her back to her mom’s. It had only happened two times, maybe three. It had now been over a month since Adam and Diana had last crossed path, but Lawrence hadn’t thought Diana would notice.

“Adam has family to visit too, you know. Just like you come to visit me every two weeks, he has to visit his sister.” That wasn’t completely true, but he didn’t want to lead her to believe that this was her fault in any way.

“Oh,” she said, looking disappointed.

“Did you like it, having dinner with Adam?”

She nodded slowly, looking at her hands shyly. “Is it my fault that he has to leave when I come?”

Lawrence frowned. Had Alison said something? “Of course not! Why do you ask that?”

She waited a little before answering, as if pondering whether she should say this, is she would get in trouble for it, or make things worse. “I heard mommy talk about Adam to you on the phone. Adam hasn’t been here since.”

Lawrence cursed mentally. Couldn’t have Alison been more careful when she had called?

“I told mommy what you told me,” she continued, “that you and Adam were very good friends. She asked me questions about it, and then she called you.” Her voice shook a little. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, Diana.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting her head against his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Your mom and I, we just want what’s best for you. We don’t always agree, sometimes we fight a little, but we both love you very much. You know that, right?”

She nodded against his chest. She said nothing more, and Lawrence had to make a decision.

“Diana, did you understand what mommy was saying about Adam and I?”

“No,” she said, almost in a whisper.

He let her go from his embrace, so he could look at her in the eyes. “You know Diana, when parents get divorced, sometimes they fall in love with someone else. It changes nothing to the love that they have for their child, it’s really just… something that happens.”

She was staring at him, listening intently, but she said nothing. He continued. “And sometimes, men don’t always fall in love with women. Sometimes, a man falls in love with another man, or a woman falls in love with another woman. Everyone is different, and that’s normal. Some people say it isn’t, but it is.”

“Miss Hannigan, the teacher from third grade, people say she has a girlfriend.”

“Yes, that happens. And that’s ok.”

She nodded slowly, processing the information.

He took a deep breath. “Daddy loved mommy very much, but now that we’re not together anymore… Daddy fell in love with someone else.”

“With Adam?”

Lawrence nodded, relieved that she understood without him spelling it out. She was a smart kid, he always knew that.

“Yes, with Adam. But it hasn’t been very long, and your mom and I, we think it’s best that Adam doesn’t spend too much time here when you’re here. If something were to happen, and Adam and daddy weren’t together anymore, we don’t want you to be sad about it. Maybe later, if what daddy and Adam have lasts a long time, then he’ll start being here more often.”

She nodded calmly. He scanned her face for signs of agitation or perplexity, but she showed none. She seemed to understand and accept the news. He hoped she would keep this openness to change into her later years, she would need it.

“Anyway, what you need to remember is that I love you very much, and none of this, none of this, is your fault. You understand?” She nodded. “I am happy when you’re happy. So show me that smile.” The corners of her lips were pulled a little, and he kissed the top of her head with all the affection he could muster at once.

“Love you honey,” he repeated one more time before getting up.

“Love you too, daddy.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, daddy.”

oOoOo

Lawrence was a patient man. But there came a time when he had enough.

It was a group of three nurses, in their late twenties or early thirties, sitting at a small table in their lounge. He had just walked in with a file in hand, which he had come to hand out to Nurse Reinhart, who it appeared was not here. The minute he had set foot in the room, all chatter had stopped, and wide eyes were looking at him. He had asked about Nurse Reinhart, and been told he was with a patient on the third floor. He had nodded a thank you, and turned to leave. One step out the door, and he heard the chatter resume.

One swift movement, and he was back in the room, eyeing the gossipers. At least, he tried to be as swift as his cane and limp allowed.

“If you have any concerns, you can speak up.”

The wide eyes were back on him. No one said anything. The silence was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care about that. Not anymore.

“Anyone would care to share what is so fascinating?”

Again silence.

“Ms. Nguyen?” he asked, looking straight at the young woman in question. The latter almost jumped, probably surprised that he knew her name.

He knew all of their names. “Mr. Olongbo? Ms. Miller?” Still no response. The silence was starting to feel heavy, almost suffocating.

Until the blonde nurse on the right, Anna Miller, whispered a few shaky words. “Sorry Dr. Gordon.”

Nothing else was said, and no one dared look at him in the eye anymore. All eyes were on the table. After a few seconds of this, he loosened his tone a little.

“Look, I am not an idiot. I know what is being said about me. I just expected a little bit more from smart professionals like you guys. It’s 2005, for Christ’s sake. I think we’re a little bit more evolved than this.”

A few small nods. He figured they had had enough.

“Please tell Mr. Reinhart to find me if he comes back here.”

“Yes, Dr. Gordon.”

And on this, he left the room. This time, he did not hear chatter on his way out.

oOoOo

It started out small.

In fact, it started with “I love you.” The third time Lawrence said those words to Adam in the span of almost two months. He had been patient. He had been understanding. But that night, something snapped.

Maybe it was the realization that he had basically risked everything he cared about by coming out to his surroundings. Alison knew. Diana knew. His colleagues knew. He hadn’t really told his brother, but he suspected that even he was starting to figure it out. He hadn’t really come out of his own volition in most cases, but there he was. Out. And Adam wasn’t. He couldn’t even tell his sister, who was becoming an increasingly important member of Adam’s life. She had even visited once in the past week, and it had been a whole charade, trying to keep that part of their relationship hidden from her.

Maybe it was the pain of starting to realize that, if Adam never said those three words back, maybe it was because he didn’t mean them. And the thought of it hurt so, so much.

He had snapped, confronted Adam. The younger man had immediately gone on the defensive, asking Lawrence not to push him. And Lawrence couldn’t take it.

“Push you? _Push_ you? I _love_ you, Adam! And that’s too much for you?”

“Well, maybe it is!”

“I don’t believe this!”

“I never asked you for this! Ok? I never asked you for anything.”

“Yeah, well. I guess that makes me the idiot here.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then _what_ are you saying, Adam?”

“I… I don’t know, ok? I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I guess I just want to know if I am stupidly in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way. Who is too scared to love me back.”

“I… Lawrence.”

“Can you say that you love me? Can you do that?”

Adam gaped at him for a while, grasping for words, syllables even. Nothing came out. After a while, he closed his mouth and looked at the older man with a hopeless expression. No. He couldn’t. His eyes said he was sorry, but Lawrence couldn’t handle the sight of it.

“I think you should spend the night elsewhere, Adam.”

“What? Lawrence, don’t do that…”

“Just leave.”

“Lawrence, please.”

The older man turned around and made his way to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, not quite slamming it, but still letting it resonate a little.

Adam stood helplessly, shoulders slumped, in the middle of the kitchen for a few minutes. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Eventually, Lawrence heard him grab his keys on the counter and leave the apartment.

And Lawrence cried. Not like the forty-two-year-old man that he was, but like the heartbroken fourteen-year-old he had never really been able to be.


	19. Chapter 19

Adam showed up at his sister’s door unannounced, hadn’t found it in him to call her on the way. He had thought about going somewhere else, maybe a motel, maybe Dylan’s. He knew that Amy would worry about him, and he really didn’t need that kind of attention tonight. But in the state that he was in, he couldn’t get himself to think, his brain was experiencing all kinds of interference, and Amy’s apartment was the only place he really knew how to get to by heart at this hour.

So he just knocked on her door, his face as pale as if he had just puked his guts out repeatedly – and maybe he had, he couldn’t remember. He gave her no real explanation as to what had happened. He said something about an argument with Lawrence, tried to downplay the whole thing, but it was clear on his sister’s face that he was not fooling her about how distraught he really was.

The subway ride to here had been the longest in Adam’s memory. Lawrence’s words had played on repeat, echoing all around him, making him feel sick to his stomach. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Not because of someone he had been seeing, at least. He usually was the one to throw people out of his life, get rid of them before they got rid of him. And when they did leave him first, he didn’t care, because he had made it a point not to.

He didn’t want to care. But Lawrence’s words felt like knives stabbing him repeatedly, and no matter how far he got from their apartment, it still stung just as bad. He had lowered his guards, and now he was paying for it.

“Need anything else?” Amy asked, standing in the door frame of the guest bedroom. The concern was evident on her traits.

He was sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, his arms wrapped around a throw pillow – since when did Amy believe in throw pillows anyway? – and doing his best to look calm and composed . “No, thanks.”

He hoped she would nod and leave. But she didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

“What?” he asked, sounding impatient.

“Are you ok?” This was probably the third time she was asking.

“Yes!” he snapped. “I’m fine, jeez. I’m telling you it’s nothing.”

She almost imperceptibly shook her head disapprovingly, which only unnerved him even more. The one good thing about this was that his frustration towards Amy was distracting him from everything else he was feeling.

She gave him an annoyingly knowing look before speaking up again. “You know, Adam, when two roommates have a fight… they go to their rooms. They usually don’t stay at their sister’s.”

He gawked at her for a second, puzzled. “… if it’s trouble, I can go – ”

“Nonsense, you know you’re always welcome here. That’s not my point. My point is, this is not usual roommate behavior. Normal roommates would go to their rooms. Unless… you don’t have a room.”

For a split second, Adam directed at her a glance filled with what seemed like fright, before looking down at his thumbs.

Amy sighed. “Look, Adam, I didn’t say anything at the time, it didn’t seem appropriate, but when I visited you at your place, the room that you’ve theoretically been sleeping in looked… really not slept in. Plus, I find it hard to believe he would make you sleep in a room that is so clearly designed for his daughter to sleep in. It didn’t add up. But I thought it wasn’t the right time to ask.”

Silence ensued, as if she was waiting for Adam to respond, “Ask what?” But he didn’t. He was keeping that door as closed as he could, for as long as he could.

She sighed once more, and walked over to the bed, where she sat next to him. He refused to look at her, so she looked at the ceiling while continuing her monologue. “You know, recently, I remembered something from when we were kids. I think you were like, 10, and I was 14. There was this little event at your school, it was like a dance party, but during the day and super PG. I asked you who you were thinking of asking to go with you, and you told me that you didn’t know. Because you were 10, and it was an elementary school thing, so of course no one had actual dates. I thought I was being funny. So I asked you which kid you thought was the cutest in your class, and you said Ryan. He was some other kid in your class. I was so surprised, I told you that you couldn’t say things like that, Ryan was a boy, people would think you were gay. I made a much bigger deal of it than it had to be, and I think I scared you a little. Back then, I thought I was doing you a favor, but in hindsight, I might have done more bad than good.”

“We were kids, it meant nothing,” Adam said in a sigh, not quite looking up from his fiddling thumbs, but at least acting a little more interactive.

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t think it helped creating a safe space between us, where you could have told me things.”

“Really, it was nothing. It’s… not your fault.”

Amy nodded a bit, this time staring straight at him. And she didn’t take her eyes off him this time, making him more and more uncomfortable. But as time passed, with her eyes glued to his side, and him feeling exposed and vulnerable, he started slowly accepting the inevitability of what was coming.

“Adam, was it a roommate fight? Or was it… a couple’s fight?”

Adam remained silent, and after a minute or so, that was enough of an answer for Amy. She nodded silently.

“Well, I hope Lawrence and you figure this out. I think you’re doing each other a lot of good,” she finally said, patting his knee before slipping off the bed and leaving the room without another word.

Adam didn’t move for another hour, staring at the window in his line of sight, and pondering how everything had gotten so weird.

oOoOo

The day after The Fight, Adam called in sick at work. His head hurt, his stomach felt squeamish, and he basically felt hungover without having had anything to drink besides his sister’s old people tea. He figured he would stay in bed all day, like the sappy teenage girl stereotype he was becoming.

Amy had brought him breakfast before leaving for work. To his dismay, this also happened to be Tommy’s day off, so he had that to look forward to, whenever he decided to emerge from the guest room.

Most of the day went by without a hitch. He alternated between sleeping – which did not make him feel any more rested – and staring at the ceiling blankly, shutting off any harmful thoughts coming his way.

But around four in the afternoon, he was too hungry to stay sane. He rolled out of bed and silently tip-toed to the kitchen, hoping to find a little snack, something to keep him alive.

Before he could even make it to the kitchen, he was seen by Tommy, who was sprawled on the couch, watching some sports event on the couch.

“What’s up, dude!”

“Hey…” Damn it.

“Want to join? There’s some pizza left.” He pointed at an open box of pizza, which was looking like it had cooled down quite a bit, but still looked awfully appetizing. Adam hated sports, and didn’t particularly like the prospect of watching TV with Tommy, but the pizza was a strong argument he couldn’t quite refute.

“Sure.”

He sat next to Tommy, who repositioned himself to give him some space. “Want a beer?”

“Uh. Yeah.” If he was going to have the symptoms of being hungover anyway, he might as well get drunk for real.

Tommy grabbed a beer from the pack situated on the floor, next to the couch, and handed it to Adam, who nodded in thanks.

Both of them were silent for a while, Tommy watching the match – it was football, it turned out – and Adam stuffing his face with pizza. But after what must have been fifteen or twenty minutes of this, Tommy slightly turned his head in his direction, albeit keeping his eyes on the match.

 “Hey, so, Amy told me about your, uh.. friend.”

Damnit Amy.

“She did, huh?” He wasn’t sure how much she had revealed, but she would certainly hear about this when she got back. Amy and he were opening up: great. But Tommy wasn’t part of the deal.

Tommy looked at him briefly before returning his eyes to the screen. “I can’t say I know much about this kind of things. You know, homo things.” This was painful. Tommy sounded like he was trying to be genuine and nice, but this wasn’t working. Adam prayed for it to end. As soon as possible. “But, I am sorry you and your fellow are having trouble. I mean, I haven’t seen him much.” Tommy and Lawrence had crossed paths once, when Lawrence had given Adam a ride to Amy’s for the weekend, before one of Diana’s visits. They had mainly just exchanged nods. “But he looks like an ok dude. I hope it works out between you two.”

Adam usually just avoided eye contact with Tommy, hoping this would communicate his dissatisfaction with having to interact in the first place, but at that specific moment, he looked at Tommy with surprise. That was an unusually nice thing to say. For Tommy, at least. He looked like someone who would call him a fag and gracefully tell him to go back to butt-fucking his faggot boyfriend. Maybe Adam had judged him a little fast. “Uh, thanks.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Adam was still processing how oddly alright the interaction had just been, when Tommy felt the need to add something.

“I’m not saying this in a gay way, though. No homo, you know… I’m just saying, you know… I just hope that… uh…”

Tommy sounded so ridiculous that Adam couldn’t bring himself to look stunned or horrified. He chuckled, and then laughed openly, under Tommy’s puzzled expression.

“Don’t worry Tommy. I wouldn’t come on to you if you paid me to.”

Tommy frowned, confused, before deciding that he was alright with that statement. “Cool.”

And they watched TV in silence until Amy got back.

oOoOo

“Well _you_ look tired.”

Adam raised his eyes from the magazine he was reading, elbows propped on the counter, waiting for customers. Holly was smiling at him from her side of the counter.

“Oh, hey.” He was too surprised at first to politely ask what he could serve her today, like he had been trained to do. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before he resumed. “Yeah, uh… Do you want anything? I mean… what can I serve you?” He was still getting the hang of this whole customer service thing.

She smiled mockingly at his clumsy response. “Haven’t had much sleep, uh?”

“Yeah, not really.”

“Well, I won’t make it too hard for you today. I’ll just get the brew of the day. To go.”

He nodded and started pouring the freshly brewed coffee into a disposable cup.  An elderly couple was chatting quietly in one corner of the café, and two young people, probably students, were sitting at separate tables, headphones neatly placed on their heads, their nose deep into their schoolbooks. It was a fairly quiet Tuesday afternoon.

“Sold any new paintings since last time?” Adam asked, feeling the silence press against his chest awkwardly.

Holly’s exhibition here had ended a while ago, but she was a regular at this place, he had come to realize. She had mentioned recently that she had another exhibition in a college library at the moment. She smiled, appearing grateful that he had remembered.

“It’s been pretty quiet, to be honest. But I’ve heard from a potential buyer yesterday, so we’ll see.”

“Cool.”

Holly came once or twice a week. Or at least, that’s how much Adam saw her, she probably came when he didn’t work as well. She was nice, she always chatted with him a little. It was weird to him, how easily she just held a conversation with someone she hardly knew. At first, he had thought she was coming on to him, but after a while, he had realized she was just the kind of person for whom socializing came naturally. Also, she had mentioned her boyfriend, so that had also helped clearing things up. He had been a little bit more relaxed around her after that.

She opened up to him pretty easily. Almost too easily. He didn’t ask her a lot of questions, but she told him plenty of things about herself, from her boyfriend to her side job as a telemarketer, from her mom’s health to her dog Brandy. He never really returned the favor, not really knowing how to tell people about himself, but he had learned to find her practically one-sided conversation enjoyable.

Although, today, she wasn’t quite as talkative. She was looking at him intently, almost scanning him, concern clearly drawn over her features.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really don’t look so good today,” she said with a sympathetic tone. “Is everything ok?”

He was a little unsettled, unused to having the spotlight directed at him. “Uh, yeah. It’s… it’s nothing. Just haven’t been sleeping at home lately, it’s messing with me a bit.”

She nodded slowly, as if evaluating his response. “Girl problems?”

“Uh… I guess?” He didn’t feel the need to correct her. He also couldn’t stop the sneering thought passing his mind, telling him how ironic this was. This was the reason Lawrence had kicked him out, hadn’t he? Because he couldn’t admit it publicly. Because he acted like he was ashamed.

Actually, when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that Lawrence had really kicked him out. He had only asked Adam to leave for the night. But three days later, Adam still hadn’t found the courage to go back. He did not know if he would. If he could. He was lucky that he had left a change of clothes at Amy’s apartment, one of those times when he had spent the weekend.  He hadn’t had to wear the same clothes for three days. But he knew he couldn’t keep this up for long.

Holly chuckled a little, yet not mockingly. Not in a bad way, at least, he felt. “What did you do?” she asked, without any discernible judgement, but still bearing a knowing look.

“I guess I didn’t open up enough.”

“Hmm. Classic.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

There was an awkward pause. Although, Adam seemed to be the only one to feel it. Holly was still looking at him intently, not bothered in the slightest.

“What’s her name?” she finally asked.

He hesitated. And then what the hell. “Lawrence.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh! My bad. I totally just assumed.” And as easily as counting to three, she switched pronouns. “What does he do?”

“He’s a doctor.”

“Wow! That’s neat.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“You think it’s over?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you guys talk about it?”

“Not really.”

She paused again, taking a sip from her coffee. She put the cup back down on the counter, and returned her eyes to him.

“Well, here’s what I usually say: if you talk about it and it turns out it’s not over, then great! All is well. And if it _does_ turn out it’s over, then you can use your pain to produce beautiful photography and exhibit it here.”

Adam scoffed under his breath. “Sure.”

She smiled and took another sip. The bell at the door rang, which brought the moment to an abrupt end. She picked up the cup and, before she turned to leave, threw him one last look. Purely sympathetic, this time. “And, you know, even if it does work out, you can also use your joy to create beautiful photography. I’m just saying. Either way works.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She smiled, he nodded, and she left. And as he served customers throughout the rest of the day, he couldn’t help but think about Lawrence, and the inevitability of him going back.

oOoOo

Adam took a deep breath, before breathing out slowly and raising his fist to knock at their door – well, Lawrence’s door. There was a moment of silence, and then he heard footsteps on the other side. He instantly felt sick again, but he sucked it up the best he could, fiddling with the large yellow envelope in his other hand.

The door opened to reveal a well-dressed Lawrence. He had probably just come back from work. He looked so well put together, if it wasn’t for the dark circles under his eyes and the unshaven look he would never go for under normal circumstances, one might think he was doing just swell.

“Adam?” he looked surprised. “You don’t have to knock. This is still your place.”

 _For now_ , Adam thought. Lawrence’s name was still the only name on the lease, it wouldn’t be hard to kick him out officially.

“I, uh… hey…” Adam had tried rehearsing this, but he could remember none of what he had thought of on his way here. “Can we talk?”

Lawrence looked at him with a pained expression, before nodding and letting him in.

He followed the older man into the kitchen area, and they both stood awkwardly by the counter, debating what to say.

“How have you been?” Adam asked, trying to somehow segue into the conversation he knew they had to have.

It had only been five days, but it felt like forever.

“Alright,” Lawrence replied laconically.

Adam nodded. “Good, good.” The silence that followed was just as awkward, and Adam figured he would have to just jump right into it.

He dropped on the counter the big envelope he had been carrying. He didn’t provide any explanation, the words were still unavailable to him.  He just let Lawrence look at the envelope quizzically.

 “What is that?” The older man eventually asked, frowning.

“This is me admitting that you were right.” He picked the envelope in one hand again, opened it and slipped out its contents, which he dropped on the counter again, towards Lawrence. “I was scared. Of moving on, and not just from Jigsaw. I’ve been running in place for years, not letting myself be happy because that meant someone could take it away.”

What Lawrence was finding himself faced with was a pile of photographs, quite a lot of them. He picked one up from the pile, glancing at it attentively, analyzing it.

“Did you take those?”

“Yeah. I went to the darkroom you showed me. It took me all day to get those developed, there were so many. They’re not all good, most of them I took just so Amy would leave me alone. But some of them are alright.”

Lawrence continued looking through the pictures one by one, slowly, but earnestly. Adam even thought he saw a smile form on Lawrence’s lips for a second, as the older man glanced at a picture of a child walking his dog.

“I am glad you did these,” Lawrence simply said, giving him a genuine look. In those eyes, Adam saw affection, empathy, but still a hint of sadness. Adam didn’t like that last part, and he knew he was the cause of it.

“Lawrence,” he started again, mentally willing himself to be strong. Even if that meant showing weakness. “I… I never told you this story, I never really told anyone before, because I don’t like being vulnerable. You know that.” Lawrence flashed him a very small smile. Adam continued. “I fell in love once. A long time ago. Her name was Janice. It was… messy. Long story short, she was older, I was head over heels with her, and she used that to her advantage. I dealt drugs for her, got caught, and she let me go to juvie all by myself. I never saw her again.”

Lawrence’s face was unreadable, but he was listening intently. Adam kept going.

“Anyway, it was stupid, I was only seventeen, it really shouldn’t have hit that hard, but I was a stubborn brat, I let myself be vulnerable once and got burned. I wasn’t gonna let myself get burned twice. Even if that meant hurting people who genuinely wanted to be there for me.”

Lawrence was looking at him intensely. He wished he could decipher what he was thinking. But the older man just let him talk.

Adam nervously slid a hand through his hair. “Look… my sister knows about us now. She already knew, I should say, it was a little dumb to think she would buy the whole roommate thing. I told Dylan too, on the phone. I didn’t have to, I hardly see him enough to justify his knowing, but I told him anyway. I wish I could give you a long list of people I have come out to since, but I guess I don’t have a very big social circle. I could come out to my coworkers, though, I guess. So let’s make that the list, then. And I can do it tomorrow if you want me to. It’ll be out of the blue, but I don’t care. Not anymore. I have never been one to beg, I always felt this was beneath me and people weren’t worth that kind of attention, but I guess you’re the fucking exception, because I am here, and I miss you, I am miserable without you, and I’ll drop to my fucking knees if you want me to, because  I love you, I do. I don’t think I’ve ever been this serious about anyone in a really, really long time, so I was scared, but I am not anymore, at least, not enough to lose you. So please, say something, because I am rambling and I am afraid to stop because I don’t know what you’ll say, and, I.. . yeah..”

Lawrence went from a look of surprise, to one that was much less readable. This only made Adam more anxious, and after a moment of silence that felt too long, Adam just had to keep going. “Do you want me to kneel? Is that it? Because I’ll do it – ” and he put a knee on the floor as he said this, but before he could drop the other or say anything else, Lawrence interrupted him by raising a hand.

“You don’t have to kneel, Adam.”

And so he stayed like this, with one knee on the ground, his hand still holding the edge of the counter for balance, and his pleading eyes still on Lawrence, waiting for his verdict.

“Look, Adam,” he said with a sigh, “I miss you too, and I want this to work. I am just putting a lot on the line here…”

“I know, I understand, and I guess I didn’t really think about that before, because I’ve never had much to lose, but now that I do… I was terrified. But I promise I won’t let that hurt you again.” A beat. “ _Please_.” His voice shook on that last plea, and that seemed to do something, because Lawrence’s shoulders slumped.

“God, Adam…” He shook his head a bit, before taking a step forward. “Just come here.”

And in a flash, Adam was back on his feet, wrapping his arms around Lawrence’s body as the other man circled his shoulders, and Adam cried. He wasn’t proud of it, but now that the tension was dissipating, the tears he had promised he would not shed were all over his cheeks and Lawrence’s shirt. If this wasn’t vulnerability, he didn’t know what would do the trick now.

“Shht, it’s ok.” Lawrence whispered in his hair. “I missed you too.”

“I love you,” Adam managed one more time in between sobs, repeating it as if to make up for lost time.

“I love you too,” Lawrence whispered, stroking his hair in soothing motions.

He never wanted to leave again. And so he held on to Lawrence for as long as he could, until his tears were dry, until he felt exhausted, until he could no longer stand straight, and still he held on. Eventually, Lawrence led him to the bedroom and helped him lie down on the mattress, where he fell asleep in Lawrence’s arms.


	20. Epilogue

_**1 YEAR.** _

“For someone who is not doing that kind of stuff anymore, you’re doing pretty well, I’d say.”

Adam rolled his eyes at Holly’s comment as he poured coffee into her mug, but he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his lips. As much as he tried to maintain a cool front, like this was no big deal… it kind of was, a big deal, really.

His first exhibition. Granted, it was a small artsy café only known to a small circle of regulars and he wasn’t going to make any real money from this. But it didn’t bother him anymore. Sometimes, when people came in, they stopped in their tracks, took a few minutes to look at his photographs, and as distressing as it was for him to watch them analyze his work, it also felt oddly exhilarating. He stammered every time someone asked who the artist was. Not once had he sounded smart and composed when answering that question. But he had gotten his share of compliments, which felt… weird. Nice, but weird. But nice… He was still figuring it out.

Maybe he didn’t need photography to be his main hustle, as long as he kept it up on the side and continued to push the boundaries of what he could do. Even if just for fun.

“I particularly like that one.” Holly pointed at a photograph hung near the counter. Adam followed her glance to the designated picture.

It was of a young woman he had seen at the park. She was reading a book, completely shut off from the rest of the world. The lighting had been just right, the breeze has gently blown into hair just at the right moment. She hadn’t even noticed him until he had spoken to her afterwards, and showed her the picture.

Photographing strangers again had been a difficult step for him. Even if it was no longer under the veil of stalking or dirty money, there was something about taking snapshots of strangers without their knowing  that made him uncomfortable at first. He had started with still life, landscapes, animals, and had slowly worked his way towards human beings again. A few snapshots from each phase were represented on the walls around them. It was like a visual progression of his own healing process.

“Yeah, I like it too.”

No pictures of Lawrence, Diana or Amy had made it onto those walls, even though he had quite a few of those at home. He wasn’t ready for that kind of personal stuff brought to the public eye yet. Maybe later. He was still figuring out his own style, he supposed.

Holly raised her steaming mug of coffee and held it forward. “To many more to come.” Adam smiled and pretended to hold a mug to clink it with Holly’s.

“To many more.”

 

_**2  YEARS.** _

“That’s not how you put on a tie.”

Adam groaned in frustration. “This is stupid. Tell me why I have to do this again?”

“Because you said I should stick it to all these fancy fartsy doctors – your words, not mine – and that I should bring you as my sexy date to make them all piss themselves in jealousy or whatever. Again, your words.”

“Yeah, pretty sure that, when I said ‘sexy date,’ that implied less clothing, not three fucking layers of suffocating material.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the world of relationships. That’s compromise for you.”

Adam grunted and let Lawrence fix his tie for him. Their hotel room was quiet and peaceful, but it felt like they were preparing for war.

It was one of those medical conventions that happened every other year in the area. The oncologists of Angel of Mercy alternated to attend, and this was Lawrence’s lucky turn this year. (Actually, it should have been his turn two years ago, but with the whole sawing his own foot off for survival thing, he had kindly let someone else do it.)

Lawrence had been to those events a few times before, with Alison. This was a three-day event, he had a presentation to do on day 2, and the rest was just attending panels and talks, taking notes for his department, and attending fancy cocktail or dinner parties where people shook hands, traded meaningless civilities and paraded their perfect significant others and nuclear families around for everyone to see. This was the first time he was attending one of those since the divorce, and to top it all off, he was going to be parading his twenty-nine-year-old boyfriend in front of all those snobby doctors.

It had sounded like a better idea when they were lying in bed naked at home and laughing about it.

“Alright, that’s better,” the older man said, smoothing the material of Adam’s jacket with his palms.

“Thanks, mom.”

“Try not to call me that in front of other people.”

“I thought we said ‘To hell with the gossip’?”

“Yeah, well. One step at a time.”

Adam smirked, which made Lawrence smile. He kissed the younger man’s swollen lips – he hadn’t stopped biting them since he had started getting dressed, visibly a little more nervous than he wanted to let on – and gave him one last pat on the shoulders for encouragement.

“Ready?”

“I guess.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

_**5 YEARS.** _

They had their biggest, most painful fight just a few weeks after their five year anniversary. Things had been tense between them for months, they had been snapping at each other over the smallest of things, and it had slowly, surreptitiously built up to that one night, where everything just flooded out of them like it was no longer under their control. Words were fired at each other like weapons, like they wanted to hurt each other, bad. And if they were honest with themselves, they did. They stabbed each other with those words, aiming for all the insecurities they had uncovered but protected over the years, gnawing at what made each of them stand straight in the public eye, what kept them strong. They kept at it for what felt like hours, forgetting how it had even started in the first place, until it didn’t matter, they were both too severely wounded to look each other in the eye, and they were left to contemplate the mess they had made of themselves. There was nothing left to say.

Adam had moved out one week later, first staying at Amy’s, then renting a room in a couple of strangers’ basement.

Lawrence had wanted him gone, forever. For a few weeks, at least, that’s how he felt. When a month rolled in, he started waking up in the middle of the night, looking for the other man’s warmth next to him, until he remembered, sorely, and he spent the rest of the night clinging to his blankets, feeling cold no matter how many layers he added. He tried calling once, Adam hung up before he could say much.

Two months into the separation, he started feeling a little better, waking up with energy in the morning, and catching himself enjoying some of his time alone once in a while.

It never lasted long. On month three, one night when Diana, 13, was with him, she caught him crying on the couch, late at night, when he thought she was sleeping. He tried brushing it off as nothing important, but she sat next to him, rested her head on his shoulder, and stayed with him until he felt a little better. A little.

Four months passed. Then five. Lawrence heard a rumor that Adam was seeing someone else, and it stung, still. A few weeks later, he heard it was already over. He felt an unhealthy dose of relief, but still woke up in the middle of the night, feeling desperately alone and unhappy. It wasn’t happening as often as in the beginning, but it still did, creeping on him whenever he thought he was finally getting better.

Six months, seven months.

On month eight, they crossed path in the grocery store. They awkwardly exchanged civilities, struggling to maintain eye contact. Lawrence asked if he wanted to get dinner some time, Adam said ‘sure.’ They set up a date four days later, and Lawrence half expected Adam to stand him up. But he didn’t. He showed up, only ten minutes late.

Adam tried to act distant whenever Lawrence opened up a little and prodded him for genuine signs of how he felt. After a while, Lawrence just put his fork and knife down on the table, and looked at Adam straight in the eyes. He could see that he was making him uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. This was his one shot.

“Are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

Adam gaped at him, unsure of how to respond. “What are you doing, Lawrence?”

“I’ll be honest with you. I am not happy. I have been miserable for eight whole months. I tell myself it’s been getting better, but to tell you the truth, it barely has. I get by, that’s it. I am not happy without you.”

“Lawrence…”

“I am not happy, but if you tell me right now that you are, that you’re better now that we’re not together, I will leave you alone. Because I want you to be happy, and if you’re happy now like this, I will let you leave this restaurant and never bother you again. So I am asking you, are you happy?”

Adam was now looking down in the general direction of Lawrence’s plate, unable to maintain eye contact with the older man, as if looking at him would just tear at his façade, and he wasn’t sure he could keep it up much longer. The younger man kept silent, and Lawrence could feel his heart beating too fast, making him feel sick.

“Are you happy, Adam?”

There were a few more seconds of dreadful, painful silence, until one small syllable, whispered so softly that he almost didn’t catch it, made itself heard.

“No.” _No, I am not happy._

That night, they made love slowly and tenderly, even though Adam wished Lawrence would just fuck him, hard, fast, because he’s wanted this for too long. But instead, the older man mapped out his body with his exploring hands, like an old sailor rediscovering the sea he had retired from, before he realized that he couldn’t live without it.

Adam climaxed slowly, and then all at once, clinging to Lawrence’s frame, moaning into his shoulder, and then falling asleep in his arms.

They tried couple counselling after that, but Adam kept scaring the therapists away.

“How about we talk about your lowest points as a couple?”

“Well, there was that one time he shot me, I guess that put a bit of a strain on our relationship.”

Lawrence eventually gave up trying to fix anything. Maybe there was nothing to fix.

 

_**8 YEARS.** _

“What did _you_ do?”

Adam opened his eyes to find Diana, 16, looking at him from above the couch’s backrest, a smirk on her face. He squinted and tried rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

Lawrence had been snoring too much, so he had re-located himself to the couch. He must have slept through Lawrence getting up and ready for work, because the clock on the wall said it was ten in the morning.

“Weren’t you supposed to arrive tonight, after your classes?”

“It’s spring break, no classes this week.”

“Right, right.” He blinked a few more times, and that’s when he caught the glimpse of reflective metal on her face.

“What the fuck is that in your nose?”

She suddenly lost the smile on her face. “It’s nothing.”

“Is that a piercing?” It definitely was. “Does your dad know about this?”

Her biting her lip was enough of an answer. Lawrence was NOT going to like this.

It had to be recent, because the area was still red and swollen. He got up from the couch to level with her. “Oh my god, Diana. Did you get this just now?”

“My mom dropped me here an hour ago. There’s a shop nearby, so I just …”

Adam made a few steps towards her to take a closer look. He wasn’t her dad, she knew he wouldn’t be the one to yell, so she let him. “How did you even get this without parental consent?”

“They didn’t check.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He inspected the piercing a little longer, trying to see if it looked like it had been done by professionals. After about a minute of silence, with Diana standing awkwardly in place, and him inspecting her face, he sighed. “Just come to the bathroom, we’ll disinfect this.”

He sat her on the toilet and started looking for the bottle of friction alcohol they had somewhere. Meanwhile, she fiddled with her fingers nervously.

“Are you going to tell my dad?”

“It depends. Are you?”

“Can you not tell him?”

“Diana, you can’t ask me to keep that kind of secrets from him. Plus, what’s your plan here? Wear a mask all weekend?”

She lowered her eyes and sighed. Like any 16-year-old who got a piercing as a _fuck you_ to her parents, she didn’t actually have a plan. And now that she had something to brandish in her dad’s face to piss him off… she no longer seemed as excited at the prospect of it.

“Ok, then, will you talk to him? So he’s not too mad?”

“Diana…” he sighed. “You kinda have to learn to take responsibility at some point. You can’t just go out there, poking holes into your body, and expect to not have any consequences.”

“Please?”

He sighed again. In defeat this time.

And he did, talk to Lawrence. Because no one understood the brains of angsty teenagers quite like he did, and Lawrence found it hard to argue with him. Diana earned herself a relatively calmly spoken lecture from her dad.

That is, until Lawrence called Alison and told her about it. Then Diana was really screwed.

 

_**11 YEARS.** _

It was one of those late mornings of summer. Diana had just completed her freshman year of college, and was spending a few weeks of her summer break at her dad’s, since she hadn’t visited in a while.

Lawrence was at work, but Adam had the day off. Whenever it was just Diana and him, he made her his specialty: Fruit Loops cereals. Every time, she complained about it. But he knew she secretly loved it. He always did his best to entertain her until her dad came back for dinner. Which often turned into him embarrassing her with awkward old people questions, because he thought torturing her was funny.

“So how’s the love life goin’? Met any cute boys?”

“Ew, gross.”

“Fine. Met any cute girls?”

“Shut up, I’m not gay.”

“It would be fine if you were.”

“You’re only doing this to make me mad. Shut up.”

“I am only trying to make sure you know you’ll always be accepted here, no matter what.”

“You’re full of shit.”

And he was. Deep down, he was still this immature kid who enjoyed pulling girls’ pigtails. But sometimes, he and Diana had somewhat serious conversations, from which he would get actual pieces of information out of her. Apparently, his immature approach was still working for him.

“You know,” he said, only a little more serious. “If I was nineteen and in college, I wouldn’t be eating cereals with my dad’s stupid boyfriend right now.”

“Yeah, well, dating is not as simple as people make it out to be.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, for some people it’s easy. But for people like me…”

“Diana. Are you trying to make me tell you you’re beautiful? Because _I will_.”

“Ew, no. What I mean is, what am I supposed to say to guys, to make myself interesting? ‘When I was 8, I was held at gunpoint by a crazy man. But hold on, that’s not all. He was actually the victim of the crazy psychopath who kidnapped my dad and made him cut his own foot to survive. My dad’s fine, though. He’s been dating the guy he was supposed to kill for 11 years now.’”

“Well, I wouldn’t start with that, but I guess that _would_ get their attention.”

“You’re useless.”

“Well hey, yo, if you keep talking to me like that, you’ll pour your own cereal next time.”

“Please never say ‘yo’ again.”

“You know I used to be cool.”

“Yeah, that’s what old people say.”

Adam snorted and stuffed another spoonful into his mouth. Ever since she had grown into this sarcastic ball of cynicism, he had learned to enjoy his breakfast banter with her. She claimed to find it annoying, and yet, she always found ways to linger over in the morning and eat breakfast with him, before going off to whatever exciting plans she had with friends.

It drove Lawrence up the wall whenever they talked to each other that way over dinner. But that’s exactly what made it fun.

 

_**15 YEARS**._

The room was dark. The night was peaceful. It must have been around midnight.

They lay in bed, holding each other. Adam, 42, was almost asleep, his breathing evening out. Lawrence, propped on one of his elbows, looked at his tranquil, undisturbed figure. It was one of those chilly December nights. Once in a while, he would feel a hint of a breeze, sneaking inside through the cracks of the window frame, and drifting into the sleeve of his flannel pajamas. For years, Adam had fussed about his ‘horrendous’ choice of pajamas, claiming they made him look like a frail eighty-year-old. But when the younger man had hit forty, he had seen the light and converted to comfort over looks. Through the thick material of their night clothes, he could only faintly feel the warmth of Adam’s skin. But he enjoyed just feeling his form against him, close, safe.

People were right about passion. It didn’t live on forever. After years of living with the same person, sex wasn’t the fiery excitement it used to be. Passion faded, but one thing was for sure _: this_ was not indifference. This was not apathy. This was comfort, contentment. This was love, still.

“I love you,” Lawrence whispered into Adam’s ear, gently.

The other grunted, half-asleep. Lawrence smiled and deposited a light kiss on his cheek, before lying back down behind him and holding him close, until he, too, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on this one!
> 
> I always enjoyed imagining Adam and Lawrence slowly slipping into a routine, navigating the hardships of a long term relationship, not always maturely or smartly, but ultimately making it work. I like the idea of Adam horrified at watching himself become a boring old man, and also of him and Diana developing a bond (of sarcasm and sass) over time.
> 
> This fanfiction was really about exploring how it would come to be that way. I certainly do no want to create any false hope, but I think this epilogue is kind of setting the stage for more snippets being written within this universe, about their life together throughout the years. There were a lot of scenes that I thought of, but couldn't quite fit in this epilogue. Let me know if that's something you'd like to see!
> 
> And also don't hesitate to let me know what you thought of this fic in the first place! It's been a while since I've written and posted anything, this is my big return to the fandom scene. I hope this was as pleasant an experience for you to read as it was for me to write it. And I hope to keep seeing more fanfictions posted on this specific pairing because, thirteen years and 6 movies later, they are still the reason I am here.
> 
> Peace.


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